Heat Noir
by Minstrel164
Summary: They met briefly during the war. Now she is out for justice and revenge. He is trying to resurrect his writing career and get over a divorce. Their paths cross and soon they are plunged into a world of murder, spies and constant danger.
1. Chapter 1

Heat Noir

by Minstrel164

**Author's Note:**

**Hello everyone, I'm back. While I have away I have not been idle. In fact I been busy writing away on this story.**

**I have always wanted to write a 'noir' story. For some time now I have been wanting to write a story inspired by one of my favourite Castle episodes _The Blue Butterfly_.**

**I love the stories of Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett and their famous characters Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade. I also love those Film Noir movies of the 40s and 50s. This story is my attempt at that genre. Whether I have succeeded or not remains to be seen.**

**This story is very AU and is set between 1945 and 1946, and could go beyond that. I don't know because the story is not finished yet even though I have quite a few chapters written already. As usual the characters have taken control and run with it. What started as a story about a murder and a stolen piece of jewellery in post war Germany has become one where there is murder, mobsters, spies and crooked politicians as well as out heroes. There is a whole cavalcade of characters.**

**One of the fun parts in writing this story has been researching mid 1940s New York. I hope I have been reasonably accurate.**

**I was going to call this story _The Curse of The Blue Butterfly _but that title seemed to long and that piece of jewellery is only a small part of this story, so hence the title_ Heat Noir._**

**One final thing, I would like to thank shutterbug5269 whose story _A Castle In Fortress Europe_ gave me the jolt of inspiration I needed to start writing this story.**

**I hope you enjoy it. Whether you like it or not please let me know what you think of it.**

**Con **

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Chapter 1

Morning of 6th June 1944

Normandy, France

Rick Castle could not believe he had landed in a pond. He had a whole field in which to touch down on but he ended up in a pond. He could only thank his lucky stars, the Universe or whoever, the pond was not deep. It only came up to his waist. He did not want to think what he would have done if the pond had been any deeper. Being heavily laden with gear, it would have been a difficult task to get out. Almost next to impossible. Worse case scenario, he could have ended up drowning. No, that definitely would not have been a good outcome.

Castle remembered the briefings he had attended back in England. The briefer, a prim and proper English officer with a neatly trimmed handlebar moustache and wearing the maroon beret with the winged insignia of the parachute regiment, had shown on a scaled and detailed map the areas where there was swamp or marshland and made it a point to everyone present that these areas were to be avoided at all costs.

The water was cold, that was the first thought that passed through Castle's head after he had silently berated himself for landing in a pond. It was damn near freezing. Well, he had no one to blame but himself for that. He could have worn the long drawers that had been issued to each man but had chosen not to. The long drawers had been treated with chemicals he could not even begin to pronounce in case the Germans attacked with chemicals. Castle had taken one whiff of those long drawers and decided not to put them on. He would take his chances with a German gas attack.

It was bad enough jumping out of a plane into the freezing cold morning and not being able to see the ground because of ground fog, now he had to suffer the indignity of standing in waist deep freezing water because he had landed in an area he had specifically been told not to land in. He would not be able to live it down if his men could see him now.

High above him the drone of aircraft continued. Looking up into the overcast night sky he could see the canopies of the parachutes as they caught the air and deployed. The sky was exploding with flak. Tracer bullets rose up from the ground in single streams of continuous fire. Castle did not envy those men up there. In the few minutes it took to reach the ground those men up there were helpless, just sitting ducks for the Germans to pick off from below.

Castle knew exactly what they were going through because he had endured those few minutes of shear terror watching as the tracer fire rose up from the ground trying to get him or the fizz of pieces of shrapnel as they whizzed past his head and body. He had been scared many times in his life but it was nothing compared to what he had experienced as he had floated to the ground.

One piece of shrapnel had whizzed past above his head and severed one of the risers that secured him to the parachute. It sent him off course and it took more than a few minutes of desperate effort to get the parachute under control with the remaining risers. It had been real heart in the mouth stuff as his descent had increased because of the damaged parachute. He had landed with a heavy splash in the pond. That he was now on terra firma was a miracle in itself.

Castle quickly looked about him. He had been the last of his stick to jump when the green light had come on in the cabin. They had been packed in like sardines in the aircraft and could not move. When they had been on the ground they could hardly move, they had been weighed down with so much equipment.

When the red light had come on everyone had struggled to their feet, forgetting their airsickness and their fears over the coming battle. Almost forgetting about the flak that was exploding all around them jostling the aircraft. They just wanted to get out of the aircraft. Like they had been trained, each man checked the parachute equipment of the man in front of him eagerly and hooked up their rip cords to the wire that ran the length of the aircraft cabin and waited for the green light be switched on.

Castle had watched as his men shuffled towards the door and with a tap on the shoulder or a hard shove from the jump master the men leaped into the dark unknown. He was not a very religious man but as each man leaped into the darkness they went with a silent prayer from him.

On the flight from England he had looked over at the men that were sitting on either side of the fuselage, and could not help but wonder how many of them would survive. In another briefing he had been told by planners what the casualty figures were expected to be. It had been a sobering figure and one he did not convey to his men. The men had enough to worry about leading up to D-Day.

When Castle had reached the open door and was about to jump out that was when the plane had been hit by a shell knocking out the starboard engine. He had almost fallen backwards into the cabin but had stopped himself in time by gripping the doorway with both hands. The plane itself banked violently and started to loose height. Without a second's thought Castle just threw himself out the door. The last he saw of the plane that had carried him and his men from England was to see it trailing fire from its damaged engine as it fell towards the ground.

Now as he stood in the waist deep water he felt the tug of his parachute pulling him backwards almost as if it wanted to drag him under the water. His heart was still beating rapidly with the adrenalin rush of jumping into a combat zone once again and having survived it, again. The tug of his parachute was a sharp reminder that he had work to do.

Quickly Castle unbuckled his parachute harness and shrugged it off, letting it drop it into the water. If he had landed on solid ground his first task would have been to roll up the parachute and stow it somewhere out of the way but he let it sink into the water, it was not longer needed. The reserve parachute was unbuckled and was also dropped into the water.

Castle started to reach for his Thompson submachine gun which he had slung around his neck and had it resting on his reserve chute. Most of the men had broken down their weapons and stored them in bags attached to their legs to be retrieved and reassembled once on the ground. He had chosen to have ready access to his weapon just in case he landed close to enemy soldiers.

In his last combat jump, which had been in Sicily, he had broken down his M1 Grarand rifle and stowed it in a canvas bag attached to his left boot. He lost the canvas bag containing his rifle somewhere between jumping out of the aircraft and landing, something he only discovered when he found himself under fire from the enemy and him desperately searching for a weapon that was no longer there. Castle vowed to himself he would always jump with a weapon close at hand.

The Tommy gun was gone. He let out a silent curse at having lost his weapon. He could not believe it, he had lost his weapon in a combat jump again. Immediately he reached for his side arm and almost let out a sigh of relief when he felt the .45 automatic. He pulled it out of its holster and released the safety, ready to use it. The last thing he wanted was to be wandering around in the dark unarmed.

Feeling a little better now that he had a weapon in his hand Castle started to look around, trying to get his bearings. There was not too much to see. The ground mist was still hanging around and was thick in some directions. One thing he was certain was that he had landed nowhere near the intended drop zone. At the moment he had no idea where he was. There was the sound of heavy fighting off to the west from where he was standing. From the sound he could not tell how far away it was.

The next order of business was to get out of this pond he was standing in, check his map to see where exactly he might be, and then find his men. He had to find his men. He had no doubt that they had been dispersed all over the place. They all needed to regroup, get their bearings and then push on to the targets they had been given by their commander. Many people were expecting the paratroopers to do their job today.

As he searched his surroundings Castle saw the mist lift a little off to his right and reveal a bank some twenty feet away, like some exotic dancer revealing a hint of bare leg. That was the spot, he decided. He commenced to wade through the water towards the bank.

The moment he put weight on his left leg he felt a sharp pain lance through his left leg and up the side of his body. He let out a loud grunt as he faltered but forced himself to continue moving, taking one step after another. He grunted again, the pain was steady but he would manage. He had to manage, he told himself. He stumbled, his boots slipping on something underneath, and almost fell face down in the water. Throwing his arms out he managed to regain his balance and continued moving forward but treading carefully with each step.

With each step he took Castle looked either side of him with his pistol raised on the look out for danger. The Germans would now be well aware that allied paratroopers were landing in large numbers and would have turned out their soldiers. German soldiers could be anywhere.

Just as he reached the bank Castle stumbled and slipped on some pebbles and collapsed in the water's edge, half out and half in. He took a moment to catch his breath as he had not realised the effort it took to cover the short distance to reach the bank. Even though he had removed the parachute harnesses he was still weighed down with equipment.

Laying face down on the ground Castle took several deep breaths before he hauled the rest of his body out of the water. The pain on the left side of his body was now a lot sharper than it had been when he was in the water. Her rolled onto his right and slowly sat up a little to inspect the wound.

He found a large tear in his trousers that ran from just below his webbing belt down to his thigh. There was a dark patch around his still wet trousers. It took him a moment to realise that it was blood. Pulling open the tear he saw that he had caught some pieces of shrapnel. He could not remember getting hit but then he had other things occupying his mind when the shrapnel was flying about. The wound was throbbing, reminding him that it needed tending.

As much as he wanted to ignore the wound and just push on Castle knew that he could not do that. He had to patch himself up as best he could and hope to find a medic eventually. Patting his pockets in search of the first kit that he had been issued with, he thought he had lost it. He found it eventually in the right thigh pocket of his trousers. He pulled it out and set it on the ground.

Castle removed his helmet and turned to inspect his wound again. He frowned when he saw several jagged pieces of shrapnel sticking out of his upper thigh. He did not have a pair of tweezers that he could use to pull them out so he had to resort to using his fingers.

He winced and gritted his teeth at the sharp pain as the first piece of shrapnel slowly came out. He tossed away the offending piece of metal without even looking at it. The second piece refused to come out, buried a little deeper than the first one had been. His fingers slipped off each time he tried to pull on the piece of metal. His fingers were covered in his blood making gripping the piece difficult.

After several attempts he gave up, cursing the shrapnel in his leg, cursing the pain that was radiating from the wound and cursing the Germans for causing the pain in his leg. The other pieces he did not even bother with because they were too deep.

Castle closed his eyes and took a deep breath, riding out the wave of pain. He ran the back of his hand over his forehead and wiped the sweat that had formed. He reached into the first aid kit and took out the sachet of sulphanilmide powder. He tore it open with his teeth and sprinkled the powder over the wound. It stung and he let out a loud hiss as another wave of pain surged through his leg. Throwing away the empty sachet he took out the large field dressing.

It took him several long minutes to tie the dressing around his thigh and a couple of attempts until the dressing was reasonably secured. He could imagine the look of disgust from the regimental doctor if he saw this kind of slap dash kind of handiwork. He could live with the regimental doctor's displeasure.

"Next time pay more attention at first aid lectures." Castle muttered to himself.

Castle packed away the first aid kit and returned it to the thigh pocket. He had considered using the shot of morphine that was in the first aid kit to dull the pain in his thigh. It was bad but it could be a lot worse. That could still come, he reminded himself. Better to leave it until the pain got too bad and really needed it.

He picked up his helmet and shoved it back on his head. Then he gathered up his gun. Carefully he got up. He put all his weight on his right foot for a few moments before he was game to test his left leg. His face contorted at the pain that shot up his left leg.

Once more he carefully looked about him. One thing he had noticed was that the sounds of battle had intensified. One moment he could hear a sustained exchange of gunfire and another moment there was intermittent exchanges, as if people were taking pot shots at each other.

Fifty feet directly ahead of him he saw a hedgerow. From what he could see he judged the hedge to be a little over seven feet in height. Slowly he started shuffling towards it. He figured there might be a road or path on the other side of the hedge. That would be a good place as any to get his bearings. If his luck was in, there might be a farm house of some sort near by.

As Castle neared the hedgerow the sound of battle eased off a little. He heard some rustling coming from the other side of the hedge. Immediately he threw himself to the ground. He landed heavily and almost knocked the wind out of himself. He had to clench his teeth to stop the cry of pain that wanted to escape from his mouth. He scrambled forward a little and raised his gun ahead of him to where the rustling was coming from. His first instinct was to shoot first. He didn't though.

Back in England the paratroopers had been issued with cricket noise makers. These cheap little children's toys were perfect for identifying friend or foe once the paratroopers were on the ground in France. As an officer Castle had been given a clicker but he had passed it to one of his men who did not have one. There had not been enough cricket clickers to go around. Castle gave his away figuring he did not need to have one as he would have some men around him when he was on the ground in Normandy.

Now as he lay on the ground staring at the hedgerow and pointing his pistol, wondering whether it was a German patrol on the other side of the hedge and should he fire, Castle was also silently chastising himself for having given away his cricket noise maker.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Morning 6th June 1944

Normandy, France

Kate Beckett was a taut bundle of nerves at this early hour of the morning. She had been like that since last evening. At around eight o'clock the previous evening Kate had turned on the secret short wave radio and tuned into the BBC World Service news broadcast.

It was something that she had been doing for the past week despite the danger involved. For several weeks now she had been hearing stories that the Germans had been raiding houses and farms, stepping up their search for illegal radio sets.

If the Germans had raided this farmhouse and caught her with the illegal radio set she would have been thrown into jail, if she was lucky. They could as easily have her shot or worse, turn her over to the Gestapo for the allied spy that she was.

Kate was well aware what the Gestapo did to captured allied female agents when they interrogated them. If you were lucky and managed to survive the Gestapo's interrogation you got sent to a concentration camp. If you were not so lucky but still managed to survive interrogation you got shot.

She had lost a few comrades over the past couple of years and suspected there might have been a few more that had been captured by the Gestapo and just shot. Getting caught by the Gestapo was not going to happen to her, Kate had vowed to herself. A solemn promise made to herself. So far she had kept her vow.

Yet despite the promises made to herself, Kate knew full well the Gestapo were very eager to capture her. She knew that they had placed a very high price on her head for her capture. To the French Resistance she was known as _La Tigresse_ and the Germans called her _die Tigerin_. To her masters in the Special Operations Executive back in London she was known as Tigress. Kate rather liked name Tigress.

La Tigresse had been credited with a series of sabotage attacks on military and infrastructure targets in the Pas De Calais area. That was the area the Germans believed the allies would land their invasion armies when the assault on France finally came. It was the narrowest point in the English Channel. The Allies had helped with that belief with sabotage attacks and elaborate deceptions.

Kate had led a small Resistance cell in the Pas De Calais area. Their task was sabotage attacks of important infrastructure in the area. Some nights her group would blow up bridges or signalling points or minor headquarters buildings. Other nights their job was to light up buildings or areas that had been targeted by the RAF for the Pathfinder bombers that proceeded the heavy Lancaster bombers of RAF Bomber Command. Apart from those tasks Kate had another mission. A number of mid level and senior German officers had died at her hands.

For Kate and her small group, they had been too successful, so much so that it had become too dangerous for her to remain in Pas De Calais. The constant sabotage attacks had forced the Germans to step up their patrols and their search for La Tigresse. A great many people had been detained and interrogated but no one could provide the location of La Tigresse. Very few people knew who she was.

Because of the extreme danger Kate had found herself in London had ordered her to leave Pas De Calais. It was something she did not want to do because she had unfinished business there. There was one man she had wanted to kill. With great reluctance Kate obeyed the orders from London. She hated the thought of leaving the people she had been working with behind but orders were orders. Just before Christmas she departed France in a RAF Lysander that spirited her back to England.

However it was a close run thing to get to the rendezvous point. She had encountered a German patrol and had to fight her way through to the landing zone. A couple of her companions were killed in the gun battle with the German soldiers and she received some minor wounds but they had killed the German patrol.

Once back to the safety of England Kate took some leave over the Christmas New Year period to rest and recover from her wound but within a couple of months she was back in France but this time she had been sent to Normandy with a new set of orders, one of a number of agents that the British Special Operations Executive and the American Office of Strategic Services had sent to France in preparation for the forthcoming Allied Invasion.

She had found residence in the little farmhouse owned by Pierre and Martine du Mont, an old couple aged in their late sixties and members of the Resistance. They had welcomed her with open arms and treated her more like a daughter than a comrade in the fight against the occupying Germans. Her cover was that of Catherine du Mont, a niece from Orleans who had come to stay with the du Monts to help them run their farm.

The du Monts knew the dangers of harbouring an allied spy but they did it any way. They had lost two sons when the Germans had invaded France in 1940. For them working for the Resistance and the liberation of their homeland was merely doing their bit for the war effort.

Last night as Kate had listened to the news service she had heard the secret code that

informed her that the invasion was immanent. London had given her the heads up that the invasion was coming soon in of her semi regular radio reports. Still, it had come as a surprise to hear the code words coming through the crackling ether.

For a moment she had sat there staring at the radio barely listening to the rest of the news broadcast. Pierre and Martine, who had been there with her listening to the radio had been surprised as well. They looked at each other for a couple of moments in silence and stunned surprise.

Surprise quickly gave way to elation and then celebration. She had hugged and kissed both Pierre and Martine and shared tears of joy before she shook off those emotions and got down to business.

Kate had sent Pierre out to contact the rest of the resistance cell that she commanded, to inform them that the day of France's liberation was at hand. It was a dangerous task as they all knew because the Germans had increased their patrols in the entire area over the past week detaining anyone caught breaking the curfew and severely punishing them. Pierre with his shock of white hair and salt and pepper bushy moustache had grabbed his suit coat kissed his wife goodbye and with an emotional 'Vive La France' on his lips walked out the front door.

Her entire resistance group knew what they had to do. Kate had issued orders and tasks in the weeks leading up to this night. Her group consisted of only ten people which she had hand picked on the advice of Pierre du Mont and trained them up herself. They were good and she trusted them to carry out their orders when the time came.

The task for half of Kate's Resistance cell was to destroy electrical facilities in the immediate area. The other half of the cell were tasked with cutting telephone and teleprinter cables. Pierre du Mont had spent several months quietly touring the area surveying the electrical facilities and communication cables then marking them down on Kate's map on his return home. The other members of the cell memorised the locations and got ready for the day when they would destroy them.

When Pierre had departed Martine had broken out the large cache of weapons and explosives that Kate had hidden under the floorboards in the kitchen. Most of the weapons and all of the explosives had been sent by the SOE in night time air drops by the RAF over the past few weeks.

It was an amazing sight to watch this matronly woman checking each weapon and loading it as if she had been doing it all her life. It would have impressed even the most hard bitten of weapons instructors probably could put some of them to shame too.

Throughout the evening there had been a steady stream of people furtively coming up to the back door of the farmhouse, some were members of the resistance cell, there to be issued with weapons and explosives or any new orders, others who came were neighbours of the du Monts sensing that something was afoot and wondering what to do. Martine dealt with those neighbours with a friendly smile and a quiet word.

Now, an or so after midnight Kate sat was seated on a small stool by the window with her Sten submachine gun resting on her lap watching the small road that ran out the front of the farmhouse, listening to the endless drone of the planes bringing the first elements of the vast invasion army that the allies had gathered. She also heard the responding German fire. Her right leg jiggled up and down nervously.

Martine walked into the front room carrying a small bottle and two glasses. Kate turned away from the window and watched the old lady approaching with a smile on her face. Martine raised the bottle in silent offer to Kate. Kate returned the smile and nodded her head. She could use a shot of something right now to calm her nerves.

Martine passed over one of the glasses to Kate and then poured a generous measure of the amber liquid into Kate's glass then did the same with her own glass. Kate studied the liquid in the glass for a moment before she looked up at the old woman with an arched eyebrow.

"Calvados?" Kate said in English.

"We save the champagne for when the Boche is gone for good." Martine replied in her accented English.

Kate smiled a little more at that remark.

"Tonight Calvados for success, tomorrow champagne for victory." Martine added.

Kate nodded her head and held out her glass and touched Martine's. Then she brought the glass up to her mouth and took a big sip of the apple brandy that was made here in the Normandy region. It was a welcome burn as it travelled down her throat. She nodded her head in appreciation. Martine had broken out the very good stuff she noted.

A plane passed low over the house and moments latter there was a chatter of machine guns and anti aircraft guns. Both women looked up to the ceiling as if they could see the plane's progress.

"Many brave men will die today." Martine said in a sad tone of voice.

Kate frowned and nodded her head slowly. She knew what it was like to jump out of a perfectly good aircraft. She had completed half a dozen successful jumps when she had been in training back in England. Four of them had been night time jumps. On her return to France back in February she had parachuted in. It had been scary enough jumping into Normandy in the dark and hoping her Resistance contacts were there on the ground to greet her and not a German reception committee. What she did not know was what it was like to jump out of a plane and being shot at from the ground. Martine was right, many brave men would die today.

Kate finished her glass of Calvados and passed the empty glass to Martine. Grabbing hold of her Sten gun she rose to her feet and stepped out the front door of the farm house. She turned her gaze up to the sky and scanned it.

The night sky was lit up with explosions and continuous tracer fire as the paratroops jumped into the darkness. A couple of planes were trailing fire and rapidly losing altitude while several more that were on fire continued the course they were flying with explosions bursting amongst them. Other aircraft were jinking about trying to avoid the anti aircraft fire. She saw the parachutes opening up with monotonous regularity. She even heard the whoosh of the parachute canopies opening up above the noise of the gunfire. There seemed no end to the paratroopers. Never had she seen so many paratroopers before.

Kate watched the drama unfolding up in the sky for a few more minutes. Most of the paratroopers were falling close to where the landing beaches were or at least in that general area, she observed. Satisfied with what she was witnessing Kate had gone inside to finish her preparations. This was going to be a long night before the sun came up.

By two o'clock in the morning Kate had finished all her preparations and was getting ready to head out into the night. She was dressed in black trousers and a black leather jacket which had a number of pockets. These pockets were stuffed with extra ammunitions clips for her Sten gun and for the .45 Colt automatic that was holstered on her right hip. The last piece of her attire was a black beret that she wore in the English way, with the floppy part on the right hand side.

Tonight apart from the sabotage attacks that Kate's cells were to carry out, there was an additional task. This additional task Kate was going to handle herself. Tonight she was going to go out hunting for senior army officers. That additional order had come from London only a couple of weeks back. Kate did not question the additional order. In fact she welcomed it. She would have done it even if the orders had not come through from London. Eliminating senior officers would create havoc and disarray amongst the lower ranks. There was one name at the top of her list. He would be the first one she would eliminate and she could not wait to carry out the job.

A couple of miles south east of the du Mont farm just outside the small village of Picauville was located a small Germany army camp. That was Kate's first destination this morning. In that camp there was a certain SS officer whom Kate had dealings with before. The officer was SS Sturmbannfuhrer Heinrich Fromm. Before being transferred to Normandy Fromm had been in Pas De Calais. He had been particularly savage in his treatment of suspected Resistance members having killed many, which included three members of Kate's cell. On this morning Kate was going to make sure that Stumbannfuhrer Heinrich Fromm was going to find out what the revenge of la Tigresse felt like.

The thirst for vengeance was very strong in Kate this morning and it grew even stronger when her thoughts settled on one man that she had lost at the hands of Sturmbannfuhrer Fromm. Daniel had been the man's name. Kate had met Daniel when she had first arrived in Paris. He was an artist working on the Left Bank. She had posed for him on a number of occasions and it was not long before she had fallen in love with him.

They had been in England when the war broke out and they had volunteered to fight. After their training they returned to France a few weeks before the Fall of the French Government. In time they found themselves in Pas de Calais leading a Resistance cell. When Daniel had been captured and killed she had descended into a pit of darkness that saw a number of German officers found murdered.

Kate shook off those memories. This was not the time to dredge up painful memories. She was in the front room of the farm house ready to set off to carry out her mission. Martine du Mont was beside her. Martine's job would be to hold down the fort. Both women heard the sound of running feet approaching the house.

Kate lifted her gun and swung around to face the door just as it burst open. A young boy no older than twelve years old stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened in alarm as he raised his hands in the air, the colour draining from his face as he eyed the submachine gun aimed at him.

Kate would never know what made her not pull the trigger but she was relieved that she had stilled her trigger finger. Relief was quickly replaced with anger when she glared at the young boy.

"François." Martine chided, having recovered from the shock of the near tragedy that had almost taken place.

"Pardon, Madame du Mont." François said in a shaky and breathless voice. He also spoke in English.

"I could have shot you, François." Kate growled.

She lowered her weapon slowly and the boy began to recover from his own shock. He stared at Kate in awe. François was the son of the farmer who lived in the house a hundred yards up the road.

"What are you doing here?" Martine demanded.

"Pardon, mademoiselle Kate." The boy replied hurriedly, his eyes not leaving Kate. "An American...an American soldier is in your field..."

Kate managed to get the location of the downed American paratrooper out of the boy, thanked and then sent him on his way home. At first the boy was reluctant to leave but a stern look from Kate and a sharp command from Martine had him on his way home. A minute later Kate emerged from the front door and rapidly walked the path to the open front gate.

On the other side of the dirt road was a large field that was owned by the du Monts. A small herd of cows usually grazed in the field but at the moment it was not being used because the ground had been reduced to mud and marshy ground because of the recent rains. The du Mont's had transferred the cows to the paddock behind the farmhouse.

On reaching the front gate Kate crouched by the open gate. She cast a look up and down the road making sure that there were no German soldiers about.

The road was used occasionally by German patrols, tonight they would no doubt be passing through at some time. Rising from her crouch Kate crossed the road and made for the hedgerow that acted as the fence for the paddock. She paused once again and checked the road. Slowly she made her way down the length of the hedge.

Cautiously Kate approached the part in hedgerow where a small space that had been cut into it to allow access to the field. It was wide enough for a cow the pass through. She paused and looked up and down the road again to make sure there was no one about. Seeing no one Kate started to take a step but stilled suddenly on hearing a loud grunt on the other side of the hedge.

Raising her Sten gun Kate slowly moved through the hedge. Emerging on the other side of the hedge Kate was startled to find herself pointing her gun at a man laying on the ground with a pistol aimed directly at her.

XXX

Castle saw the figure emerging from the shadows of the hedgerow. He also saw the outline of what looked like a submachine gun pointed in his direction. His finger curled around the trigger of his Colt .45 and started to squeeze but stopped suddenly when he saw that the figure that was pointing a gun at him was a woman. She was dressed all in black. Quickly he lifted his finger from the trigger and lowered his weapon a little.

He watched as the woman kept the gun pointed at him as she moved slowly towards him. Once clear of the shadows of the hedge he found that it was a young woman. A smile swept across his face. Even in the low light he could not help but notice that she was a quite attractive young woman. He had observed that many French women were beautiful, something that he had discovered on his visits to Paris before the war. There was a part of him right now that was regretting not having ventured into the provinces for it was where the true beauties were hidden if this woman was anything to go by.

The woman lowered her gun so that it was pointing to the ground and not at him. For that he was silently grateful and in response he did the same with his pistol. Realising he was still laying on the ground and staring at her, the smile on his face deepened.

"Parlay...vous..." He said hesitantly.

"I speak English."

Castle's face widened with surprise, startled at hearing an American voice.

"You're American?"

"Yeah."

Castle started to get his feet. In his surprise at finding an American woman in this field in Normandy he forgot about his wound. He was sharply reminded of it when he stood up and put weight on his left leg. He let out a loud hiss of pain as he stumbled. The woman reached out and caught him by the arm and stopping him from falling. He nodded his thanks.

"You're wounded."

"It's nothing, just a bit of shrapnel that I collected on the way down." Castle replied, trying to sound that it was nothing more than a minor irritation.

"Come on, let's get you to the house."

Castle nodded his head. The house was probably near by he surmised. He recalled seeing a couple of farmhouses close by as he came down. Once again he silently thanked the Universe for his good fortune.

He was about to start walking but was startled when the woman moved closer to him and threaded her left arm around his waist. The smile on his face deepened a little more as he put his arm around her shoulders letting her take some of his weight.

They carefully negotiated the hedgerow and Castle saw the small farm house located a short distance up the dirt road. Progress was slow but steady because of his wound. He did not want to put too much weight on her. Every now and then he looked over to the woman helping him. He saw the determined look in those hazel eyes of hers.

"So, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Castle asked suddenly.

Kate turned her head slightly so that she could see the man she was helping. She saw the roguish grin on his face. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. It had been a while since she had heard that chat up line in English, lately it had been in French or German. As chat up lines went it was one of the lamest regardless of what language was used.

"That's the best you got, soldier boy?" She challenged, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I have better ones." Castle said with a chuckle.

"Really?"

Castle nodded his head confidently.

"I just didn't think I'd be using them so soon on my arrival."

"Halt!"

Castle and the woman stopped suddenly at the harsh command. Slowly he looked up the road and saw the German soldier standing ten feet away from them. The man looked to be aged in his early twenties perhaps a little younger with a nervous expression plastered on his face. It was if he could not believe he had captured an allied soldier and a member of the Resistance. The soldier was standing near to the front gate that led to the farm house.

"Friend of yours?" Castle quipped in a low voice.

"Thought he was a friend of yours?"

"Nah." Castle said. "No friend of mine."

"Didn't think so."

Castle had been hoping that their little exchange would distract the solider long enough for him to raise the gun he had in his left hand to shoot the soldier. He was not quite quick enough though. Just as he was slowly bringing up his pistol from out the corner of his eye he saw the woman beside him bring up her Sten gun and fire a short burst at the German soldier.

A look of shocked surprise appeared on the soldier's face. The rifle he was holding slipped from his nerveless hands and clattered to the ground. The next moment he crumpled to the ground and did not move.

Castle turned to look at the woman. Her face showed no emotion as she stared at the soldier she had just killed.

"Umm...remind me not to get in your bad books." Castle remarked, as he stared at the dead German soldier.

"Come on, let's get moving."

Castle nodded his head and allowed her to lead the way. He winced at the pain that was throbbing in his thigh. The pain was getting a little worse, he thought to himself. He cast a look at the woman.

"Are you French Resistance?" Castle inquired.

"Something like that."

"Ah."

Castle was aware that the Allies had a number of agents operating in France and providing invaluable information for the war effort. In fact one of Castle's English publishers worked for the organisation that was in charge of these allied agents. He had given Castle some background information about the activities of these agents when they had met up at the Savoy Hotel on one of those rare occasions when Castle had some leave from the constant training and preparation his paratroop regiment was doing.

From what Castle had been told the work these allied agents did was very dangerous work. These agents carried out their work with the fear of betrayal and capture a constant companion. He could not help but admire this young woman that was helping him.

As they approached the door of the farm house Castle saw the door swing open and an elderly woman step out. What surprised him the most was not that she had moved over to him and assisted the younger woman to carry him indoors but that the old woman was wielding a submachine gun like an expert.

"I've dropped into a nest of Amazons." Castle remarked.

He saw the woman beside him roll her eyes again. He found it an adorable trait in her. The young woman dropped him onto the chair next to a table. He saw that the older woman having released her hold on him had turned back to the door to close it.

Castle was relieved to be off his feet but his wound was still giving him hell now that the initial shock had worn off. He tried to keep the weight off it by leaning to his right. He cast a quick look around him and saw that the room he had been brought to had a rustic, homey feel to it. There were open wooden beams in the ceiling. There was a fire place by one wall and on the mantle piece there sat a couple of lamps burning brightly. A couple more lamps were hanging from the opposite wall, all of them giving off enough light for them to see.

What caught his attention the most was the bookcase that was by a third wall. All three shelves of the bookcase were crammed with books, most of them were hardbacks with a few paperbacks amongst them. There were many French titles but he also saw a number of English titles. A grin spread across his face when he spotted a handful of very familiar books.

"So, you like to read, I notice." Castle remarked in a low voice as he turned his gaze back to the woman.

The woman did not respond to his remark but Castle only grinned and looked over to the bookcase again. He saw above the book case a set of three charcoal drawings that had been framed. All three drawings were of a young lithe looking young woman. They were the kind that were drawn at life drawing classes in art school. The face of the woman was hidden by a curtain of hair or because the woman had her head turned.

Castle was no expert when it came to art but he had been to enough art galleries in his time to recognise a good artist with more than a modicum of talent when he saw it. These three drawings were pretty good. A moment later later his face brightened when he recognised who the model for these drawings was. He turned away from the drawings to look at the young woman.

He watched as the woman unslung her weapon and placed it in the middle of the table. He could see that there was an air of nervousness about her, her bottom lip was getting a good gnawing from her teeth. She must have caught him staring at the drawings there on the wall and was now trying to act like she had not seen him staring.

Sensing that she was being stared at the woman slowly turned to look at Castle. Without any doubt he had to conceded that she had the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen in his life. Normally he would have made some remark about the drawings he had espied, maybe even tease the artist's model a little but this time he decided not to. Instead he switched on his most charming smile.

Kate regarded the American soldier sitting before him and the smile that was directed at her. Nervously she gnawed on her bottom lip. She felt her heart skip a beat. The man had the kind of eyes that she could easily lose herself in. The heat rose up in her cheeks as she thought about those eyes and there was a constriction in her chest as if she was finding it hard to breath all of a sudden. It had been some time since she had felt like this in the presence of a man.

Quickly she shifted her eyes to his wound and saw that blood had seeped through the dressing. Seeing the blood was enough to get her moving.

"I...I...need to check your wound." She stammered.

"Feel free, nurse." Castle replied, cheerfully. "Just be gentle with me, please. This is my first time."

"Your first time?" Kate arched up an eyebrow.

"Yeah, my first time with you."Castle's eyes danced up and down suggestively.

Kate rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. That response only made him smile even more. She looked away from him over to Martine.

"Bring the first aid kit." Kate instructed.

Martine nodded her head and left her post by the door, disappearing into the adjoining room. She returned a couple of moments later with the first aid kit and a towel which she passed to Kate before she returned to her post by the window.

Kate knelt beside Castle and set the kit and the towel next to her. She opened the kit and then turned her attention to the dressing. She unlaced the knots and slowly pulled it away and then frowned as she carefully inspected his wound. With the towel she ever so gently wiped away the blood and dirt from the wound, trying not to hurt him, and continued to inspect the wound.

"There's a few pieces of shrapnel still in there." Kate observed.

"I couldn't get them out." Castle informed her.

Kate nodded her head as she mind up her mind.

"Drop your trousers." She ordered.

"What?"

"I said drop your trousers."

"But we hardly know each other." Castle said. "Couldn't you at least buy me dinner first?"

Kate tried hard to keep a serious expression on her face but the suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows did not help, nor did the chuckling coming from by the window where Martine was standing guard. Kate shot a glare in Martine's direction but that only made the older woman chuckle even more.

"Could I at least know your name?" Castle grinned. "I'd like to know the woman I'm getting naked for."

"Half naked." She corrected.

"Okay, half naked, then."

The expression on Kate's face softened a little under his smile.

"I'm Kate." She replied and then motioned in the direction of the window. "And that is Martine, the owner of the house you're in."

"It is a pleasure to meet you ladies." Castle replied with a nod of his head. "Captain Richard Castle, 82nd Airborne, US Army at your service."

"Drop your trousers, Captain." Kate ordered.

"So bossy." Castle muttered. He looked over to Martine. "Is she always this bossy?"

"Oui." Martine nodded as she laughed.

Kate had only been given rudimentary training in first aid before she had first come to France but since then she had plenty of occasion to improve her skills with on the job training. She had treated knife wounds and bullet wounds as well as shrapnel wounds, not to mention the odd sprain and broken bone along the way. A lot of the time she had treated those wound and injuries with only the basic of items. Thankfully London had air dropped a fully stocked first aid kit in a consignment about a month back. The other items in the kit had been obtained from the Germans.

She reached for a pair of tweezers just as Castle had lowered his trousers and slowly sat down on the chair. She cast a glance up to his face and saw the look on his face. The smile had faded from his face. It took her a couple of moments to recognise the look and then she realised it was a look of trust. He did not know who the hell she was but he was trusting her.

Kate gnawed on her lower lip as she turned her attention back to the wound. Putting down the tweezers Kate picked up the pair of scissors and cut away a large portion of his boxer shorts.

"If you wanted my underwear all you had to do was ask." Castle said.

Kate looked up from her work and shot him a glare. That look from Kate only made Castle grin even more. Kate set aside the scissors and picked up the tweezers again.

"This is going to hurt." She informed him.

"I know, and I know you'll do your best." he said in a low voice.

It took Kate about ten minutes to remove all the pieces of shrapnel out of the wound. She worked methodically at her task while at the same trying not to cause him any further pain than what he was already suffering. Through it all Soldier Boy kept talking, cracking the occasional joke in between hisses when she extracted a shrapnel piece. At first she thought he was doing it just to annoy her but she quickly realised he did that to distract himself from the pain. Even so there had been moments she found herself smiling at some joke he had cracked.

"How did a girl from New York end up in Normandy?" Castle asked.

Kate paused in her work and looked up at Castle, shooting him a questioning look.

"H...how do you know I'm from New York?" She asked hesitantly.

"Your accent." Castle informed her. "You're not bridge or tunnel, no trace of the boroughs when you talk. That means you're from Manhattan."

"Cute."

"I prefer the description of me as rugged handsome but..."

"I meant, cute trick, Soldier Boy." Kate said trying not to smile. She resumed tending to his wound.

"You haven't answered my question." Castle replied.

"And I'm not going to."

With all the pieces of shrapnel removed Kate then cleaned the wound and used a fresh field dressing to bind the wound.

"You can pull up your pants." Kate announced as she packed up the first aid kit.

"Was it good for you as it was for me?" Castle quipped as he pulled up his trousers.

Kate looked up and saw his rakish grin. She feigned annoyance as she regarded him.

"Try not to ruin my good work, Soldier Boy." Kate said as she wiped her hands with the towel.

"Yes ma'am." Castle said obediently.

Kate nodded her head as she picked up the first aid kit and rose to her feet allowing Castle to do up his fly. She set the kit on the table. Picking up the Sten gun she slung it over her shoulder.

Castle started to rise to his feet. Kate place her hand on his shoulder and pushed him down on the seat.

"You need to rest." She informed him.

"The thought of you nursing me back to health is quite appealing, and under any other circumstance I would let you nurse me but I need to find my men." Castle replied. He tried to rise but once more he was pushed back down.

"You've lost some blood. You need to rest for a few minutes."

"Look, you've got your job to do and I've got mine." Castle told her. "And mine's to find my men."

Kate regarded the man sitting in front of him. The smile had vanished from his face and was replaced with a look of determination. She quickly realised that nothing she would have said would have dissuaded him from what he wanted to do. It was something she understood. If the roles were reversed she would do the same.

Kate reached over and picked up the bottle of brandy that Martine had left there.

"One for the road, eh ?" Castle said, eyeing the bottle.

Kate passed him the bottle. He pulled out the cork stopper and raised the bottle to his lips. He took large sip. His face lit up with delighted surprise.

"This is really good stuff." Castle said. "Twenty years old I reckon."

"Twenty-five." Martine corrected.

"Made it yourself?" Castle looked over to the older woman who was standing by the window.

"Yes." Martine nodded her head.

"Excellent."

Kate was a little surprised to find that this officer new about the local spirit. It had taken her at least several weeks before she could differentiate between the ordinary and the good stuff and even then she had needed a little help.

Castle took another sip before he passed the bottle back to Kate. She took a sip from the bottle. He started reaching for the bottle again but Kate stepped away out of his reach. Castle frowned at her.

"You've had enough." She chided.

"You're no fun." Castle grumbled.

"You'll survive."

Castle let out a soft chuckle to show that he was not too upset at being denied another sip of the apple brandy. He reached over and picked up his pistol from the table and shoved it into its holster. He then shoved the helmet back on his head.

"Well, this has been a lot of fun..." Castle announced as he hauled himself out of the chair.

"But you have to go find your men." Kate finished the sentence for him.

"Yeah."

Kate nodded her head in understanding.

Castle stood there looking at the young woman who had patched up his wound.

"Um, could I trouble you for the direction of Sante Mere Église?" He asked hesitantly.

"Patching you up not enough for you?" Kate retorted, a small smile spreading across her face. "Now you're asking for directions?"

Castle shrugged his shoulders and then smiled sheepishly.

"I left my Michelin Guide back in England."

"It's three miles up the road." Kate informed him. She absently waved a hand in the direction.

"I'm obliged." Castle nodded

"Boche!" Martine called out suddenly.

Both Kate and Castle turned to look at the old woman. The next moment a volley of submachine gun fire exploded through the window. Without thinking Castle instantly threw himself at Kate and pulled her to the floor just as the bullets whizzed past their heads.

"You okay?" Castle demanded.

Kate was a little stunned at having Castle land heavily on her and it took her a moment to respond.

"Are you okay?" Castle repeated.

"Yeah." Kate replied breathlessly. "I'm okay."

Another burst of gunfire tore into the farm house forcing everyone to keep their heads down low. Kate scrambled out from under Castle and looked in the direction of the window.

"Martine!"

Receiving no response from the old woman Kate started to crawl across the floor to where the old lady lay.

"Martine!" Kate shouted.

Reaching Martine Kate rolled her onto her back. She let out an anguished cry when she saw Martine's lifeless eyes staring up at her.

Slowly she reached down and closed Martine's eyes. As she did so she was consumed with a burning anger at the men who had killed her.

Another volley of submachine gunfire came into the house. The bullets gouged out a line of holes across the wall opposite the window. Others thudded into the front door splintering it.

Kate waited for the gunfire to pause before she sat up and reached for her Sten gun and was about to make her way to the window when Castle crawled up to her. He glanced down and saw that the old lady was dead. He cast a sympathetic look at Kate.

"I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as those bastards are going to be." Kate gritted out.

Kate started to move but Castle caught her by the arm. She tried to brush him off but he had a firm hold on her refusing to let go. She levelled an angry glare at him.

"Let go of me." Kate shouted and tried to break free of his hand.

Castle saw the anger burning on those hazel eyes of hers and realised that she could be quite a formidable opponent if the mood took her. Yet he still would not release her arm. There was a look of recklessness about her. He had learned the hard way that recklessness got people killed. It was not going to happen to either of them if he had say in the matter, and he did.

Another burst of gunfire came through the window forcing them to duck again. Castle spotted Martine's Sten gun. He reached over and grabbed it.

"I'm going to the window, you go to the door." He ordered. "I'll draw their fire so you can open the door..."

Kate nodded her head in agreement.

Castle crouched low as he quickly moved to the window. He knelt to the side of the shattered window and peered out. He saw four German soldiers standing near the front gate. They were facing the farm house. A fifth soldier was standing over their dead comrade. No doubt the soldiers had been attracted by the dead man and they had decided the killer or killers of their comrade was in the farm house so they had sprayed the building with gunfire.

It was too dark and he was some distance away to be able to make out their faces but they seemed to be young just like the one that Kate had killed. They did not appear to be well trained. He was certainly not impressed with the way they were standing around too close together, making themselves bigger targets than they needed to be. The fifth soldier left the body of their comrade and walked to where the other soldiers were standing, he was pointing his gun at the farm house.

Castle cast a quick glance in Kate's direction and found that she had taken up a position by the door, ready to open it. There was a grim look on her face as she looked back at him. He gave her a small nod of his head before he turned to look out the window.

Castle levelled the Sten gun at the German soldiers. He fired several short bursts. The Germans went down but he could not tell if he had hit them or they were just taking cover. From out of the corner of his eye he saw Kate reach up with her hand and open the door. Castle fired a couple more short burst in the direction of where the German soldiers had gone down. He could not see any movement.

Castle saw Kate had opened the door and was rising from her crouch, about to rush out the door.

"What are you doing?" He shouted.

Kate either did not hear him or chose to ignore him. He watched as Kate strode through the door with purpose, her weapon at her hip firing short bursts in the direction of the wall. He watched in awe as this woman part avenging angel and part warrior goddess walked towards the front gate where the Germans were laying. Much to his surprise he found the image a little arousing.

Shaking off that mental picture Castle rose to his feet and watched through the broken window as Kate cautiously approached the front gate. His finger rested on the trigger of his Sten gun. He stared at the front gate and detected movement. Not all of the German soldiers had been killed, he thought to himself. He raised his weapon just as a couple of German soldiers popped up from behind the stone wall and started firing.

Castle fired back keeping his finger on the trigger raking the wall back and forth until the ammunition clip was empty. He threw the submachine gun away and pulled out his pistol as he threw himself out of the window. He rolled as he hit the ground and then came up into a crouch and fired several shots from the pistol.

He looked over and saw that Kate laying face down on the ground. His first thought was that she had been hit. He wanted to call out to her but instead he scrambled over to where she lay. Bullets kicked up the ground beside him and he threw himself over Kate trying to protect her from further bullets. He shot back but he was firing blindly because he could not see where the enemy soldiers were located.

Suddenly a sustained chorus of submachine gunfire sounded. Castle lifted his head and saw several soldiers rushing up the road. Even in the darkness he could see the distinctive shape of the helmets and felt a wave of relief pass over him. They were American soldiers, paratroopers to be exact. The sight of them gladdened his heart. He rose to his knees.

"You okay there, Captain?" A familiar voice called out.

"Sergeant Dalton?" Castle called out in surprise.

"Yeah." Sergeant Zak Dalton replied."I got Hopkins, Chomsky and Rondello with me."

Castle let out a relieved chuckle. Sergeant Dalton was his company sergeant.

He was about to get to his feet when he suddenly remembered the woman underneath him.

"Kate!" He said anxiously.

He was about to grab her and roll her onto her back when he saw her hand flex.

"I'm fine." Kate muttered.

"Are you hit?"

"No."

Castle was very relieved to hear that.

Kate started to get up and Castle assisted her into a sitting position. She brushed the dirt from her hands and looked at Castle for a moment and then to the approaching American soldiers. Two of the soldiers were standing near the front gate checking the bodies of the German soldiers. She turned her gaze back to Castle.

"Do you always throw yourself at women when bullets are flying?" She questioned.

"Only those that take the trouble to patch me up." Castle grinned.

Kate regarded him for a moment before she shook her head. A small smile settled on her face as she held out her hand to him. Castle took hold of her hand and helped her up to her feet just as Sergeant Dalton reached them.

"Good to see you're still with us Captain." Dalton said.

"That makes two of us, Sergeant."

Sergeant Dalton nodded his head. He unslung a spare Tommy gun he had been carrying and passed it over to Castle. Castle accepted it with a grateful nod of his head. Dalton cast a look at Kate before he turned back to Castle.

"I think we'd better get moving, sir." He suggested.

Castle nodded his agreement. He looked around and saw that there were only five of them.

"Where is everyone else?"

"They've been scattered all over the place, sir." Dalton replied. "God knows where they."

"We best be rounding them up, then."

"Yes, sir."

Sergeant Dalton looked at Kate and gave her a nod goodbye and moved off. The soldier who had been standing beside the sergeant did the same and also left. Castle turned to look at Kate.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine." Kate confirmed.

"You're welcome to join us, if you like."

"Planning on getting yourself hit again?"

"No ma'am." Castle informed her.

"Thanks for the offer, Castle, but I have work to do tonight."

Castle could only wonder what kind of work she had to do tonight. He did not ask because he knew that she would not tell him. He just nodded his head in understanding. He started to turn away but stopped and then held out his hand to her.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Kate." He said with a smile.

"Like wise, Captain Castle." Kate replied as she shook his hand.

"Stay safe." Castle said as he started to walk away.

"You too, Castle."

Castle started walking towards the front gate where his men were waiting. Having taken a few steps an thought came to him. He stopped suddenly and turned back to look at Kate. He flashed a boyish grin in her direction.

"Hey, when this is all over would you like to have a drink with me?"

Kate was startled by his sudden offer. She could not believe that in a middle of a war he would have the nerve to ask her out for a drink. She was thankful for the cover of night because she could feel her cheeks start to burn.

"Maybe." Kate replied, surprising herself with what she said. "Ask me then and we'll see, soldier boy."

"I'll take that as a yes." Castle said cheerfully.

Kate found the man's grin infectious and started to grin back at him as she shook her head at his audacity. Castle grinned even more before gave her a quick salute then and turned marched to the front gate.

Reaching the road Castle looked down at the bodies of the German soldiers. The grin on his face vanished. He was startled to see that he had been right in his guess that they had been young. These guys would not have been much older than nineteen or twenty years old if that.

Looking up from the dead bodies he saw the grinning faces of Sergeant Dalton and the men, his gaze came to rest on Sergeant Dalton.

"What?" Castle demanded.

"Not five minutes in Normandy and you've already made a friend." Sergeant Dalton said with a disbelieving shake of his head. Castle shot him a mock frown.

"Let's move out." He ordered as he pointed in the direction of their destination, Sainte Mere Église.

Castle watched as Sergeant Dalton led the men off down the road. Castle then turned to look at Kate and found that she had not moved from the spot she had been standing. He smiled as he gave her a final wave before he set off after his men. He smiled even more when Kate returned his wave.

He had met a number of interesting and beautiful women over the years but there were none who were like this woman called Kate. There was something special about her that he could not quite put his finger on. He felt drawn to her and that intrigued him. As he walked away he could not help but wonder if he would ever meet her again. He really hoped that they would meet again. He definitely wanted to buy her a drink.

XXXXX


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

6th June 1944

Normandy

Kate watched as Castle and his men spread out across the road as they walked down the road towards Sainte Mere Eglise. She continued to watch until they disappeared into the night. As she turned around and started to make her way back into the house Kate wondered if she would ever meet this Captain Castle again. A part of her hoped that she would. She would rather like to meet up and take him up on the offer of a drink.

With a smile on her lips she turned and walked back to the house. She silently chided herself for thinking like that. When she reached the porch Kate stopped and looked in the direction where the soldiers had gone.

The smile playing on her lips vanished. It wasn't _that _Richard Castle, was it, she wondered to herself? She remembered that he had seen the books in the bookshelf and had remarked upon it. She had ignored the comment. And then there was that knowing smile. She definitely remembered that smile on his face. She had put it down to him figuring out that she had been the model in those charcoal drawings. But he had not made mention of that but that knowing smile remained on his face.

There was no way it was her favourite author. Kate told herself sharply. What would a famous author be doing in the army, and in the paratroops at that? No, it was not him. It was just someone with same name as her favourite author. He must get that a lot, she thought. She was silently grateful she had not blurted out the question if he was _that_ Richard Castle. It would have been mortifying if he had responded that he was not the famous author. Still, the thought of meeting up with the man and having a drink with him still played in her mind.

With another shake of her head Kate dismissed the thought and walked into the house. The smile that she had been entertaining on her lips at thought of her having patched up her favourite author was suddenly wiped from her face when her eyes fell to the floor where the body of Martine du Mont lay.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the old woman. She thought about trying to lift the body and carrying it into the bedroom but realised that the old woman was far too heavy for her to carry. Kate hated the thought of leaving her like that, it did not seem dignified to leave her like that.

Fighting back a sob Kate rushed into the adjoining room and pulled the blanket off her bed. On her return to the front room she knelt down and carefully covered Martine with the blanket. What was she going to say to Pierre when he returned home? What could she say that would ease the man's pain? Pierre had just lost his life partner. Words would never be enough.

Once more she silently cursed this war for the pain and suffering it had brought to countless thousands of people.

For a few minutes Kate remained kneeling beside the covered body, mourning the loss of this wonderful woman. Martine had been like a mother to her, filling an emptiness in her heart that had been there for nearly ten years when she had lost her own mother. And now she was gone. Everyone she had loved was gone.

Wiping the tears from her eyes Kate rose to her feet. She looked about the room at the mess that the bullets had caused. A couple of the lamps had been blown out. Many of the books bore the marks of bullet ricochets. Lifting her gaze from the bookshelves Kate saw that the drawings on the wall had been damaged too. One had all been shredded from bullets and ricochets and the other two had a number of holes in them.

The sight of the damaged drawings both saddened and angered Kate, bringing on a fresh wave of tears. The drawings had been the only things she had of Daniel. When she had been ordered back to England the drawings had been the only personal items she had taken with her. She should have left them back in England but she had brought then with her when she was dropped into Normandy. It was dangerous to bring the drawings back to France but she had ignored the orders of her handler and took them with her, they meant too much to her. Now the drawings had been damaged beyond repair.

She rapidly wiped away the tears. She had work to do right now, she harshly reminded herself. There would be time for tears later. She headed into the kitchen to where the small arsenal of weapons were sitting on the kitchen table. She collected several spare ammunition magazines for the Sten gun that she picked up. Then she shoved a couple of grenades into the pockets of her trousers.

Finding some paper and a pen she wrote a quick note to Pierre explaining what had happened. With a grim expression on her face Kate strode out the back door of the kitchen and into the night. She had a job to do and she was going to complete it before the sun rose.

XXX

The drone of aircraft overhead and the responding anti aircraft fire had become a background soundtrack, nothing more than white noise. For the past hour or so there had been an endless armada of aircraft. Rolling on to his side he cast a look up to the night sky to watch the transport planes traverse the sky. He watched the parachutes open up in orderly lines behind the aircraft.

Jackson Hunt watched for a few moments. He had never seen so many aircraft in all his life. A small part of him swelled with pride at the thought of his country could produce so many aircraft in so short space of time or that it could turn out so many highly trained soldiers to fight the Nazis.

Rolling onto his stomach again Hunt peered through the scope of his rifle. He saw the activity in the small army camp had increased in the last ten minutes. No vehicles or soldiers had left the camp yet but that would be soon changing. Truck engines were starting up and soldiers were being loaded into the back of the trucks. Shifting the rifle just a little he followed the road that led out of the camp until he reached the spot he had chosen to be his target.

Satisfied that all was in readiness Hunt allowed himself to relax a little and just wait. He had been laying in wait for the past hour and a half. He was good at waiting. He preferred letting his unsuspecting prey come to him rather than him seeking it out.

He was satisfied at the location he had chosen for his hide. He was laying prone on a small rise that looked down the length of the road. The recent rain had turned the ground he was laying on damp and a little muddy but he was rugged up against the cold and wet. There were trees and shrubs around him that provided good concealment. If things did not go the way he planned then getting away would not be difficult.

Two hundred yards from his position the road turned sharply to the right. This was the spot he had chosen as his target. Vehicles heading out of the camp at speed had to slow down to take the bend.

Hunt had scouted the ground carefully not long after his arrival in the area. He had scouted the ground during the day and then at night until he was satisfied with the spot he had selected for his hide. It had a good escape route. He had learned long ago that a good escape route was essential to survival.

Six weeks ago Hunt had been in the South of France enjoying the warmer weather down there while at the same time getting ready for the invasion that was soon to come. Those plans had changed when he had received urgent orders from London to drop everything and travel to Normandy. He was one of the few men who knew for some time that the main allied invasion was going to take place in Normandy.

Jackson Hunt was used to travelling, never staying in one place for too long. He had been doing it for nearly thirty-five years, going from place to place carrying out one mission after another in the service of a very secret section within Military Intelligence for his country. Dodging police authorities and secret police had become second nature to him.

The morning air had a sharp bite to it and Hunt was grateful he had remembered to put on extra clothing. The older he got the more he felt the cold. He would not have minded being in North Africa or even Sicily right now where it was sunny and warm. Sure the sand and flies could be annoying but he could live with that if it meant that his bones did not have to freeze the moment the temperature even looked like dropping.

Of late with each and every ache and pain he felt in his body he had started to think that the time to retire was not all that far away. He would be the first to admit that he was starting to get too old for this. However when he started thinking about retiring he would wonder who would take over his job. There were very few people out there that were capable of doing what he did or even have the experience. There were fewer people out there who had the stomach to do what he had been doing for decades.

Also when he entertained thoughts of retirement he would wonder where he would retire to. In his travels over the years there were a number of place he could retire to but no single place held his heart for long enough to set down roots. Maybe he could return to the States and spend his retirement years there and then again maybe not. He shook off thoughts of retirement. He could not retire just yet, not when there was a war to be won. Even though he was getting on in his years, his specialist services were still needed.

Scanning the camp and the immediate surrounds he caught sight of a dark figure moving slowly through a field towards the hedgerow that lined the road from the camp. Hunt focused the scope on the figure. As the image come into focus he saw that it was a woman dressed in black and she was carrying a gun. A Sten gun to be exact.

A smile broke through his salt and pepper coloured beard as he watched as the woman paused and crouched low where she was in the middle of the field and carefully looked about her as if she was checking to see if she was being followed. Hunt saw the woman's face and his face deepened a little when he recognised her. It was the du Monts' niece Catherine.

Hunt had seen her in the village on a couple of occasions when he was enjoying a glass of wine outside the cafe with some other old timers. He remembered the young woman being polite and respectful with a ready smile for the old men in the village who greeted her when she walked by. To some of the bolder old men she had a gentle but quick witted retort to their pleas to marry them.

As he joined in the laughter of his companions Hunt found himself wishing he was a couple of decades younger. Catherine du Mont was a very attractive young woman.

What he also remembered when he had seen her was that there was something else about her, a cautiousness or wariness about her that he had seen in members of the Resistance or allied agents that he had encountered. He could not help but wonder if she was a member of the resistance.

Before his arrival in Normandy he had been told that an allied agent, codenamed La Tigresse was operating in the area as well as a number of Jedburgh teams that had been inserted in the weeks leading up to the allied invasion. He was under orders not to make contact with them. He liked it that way. In fact preferred it that way. He had always been a lone wolf.

Seeing Catherine du Mont with a Sten gun in her hands was pleasing. It was pleasing to confirm what he preciously suspected about her. He wondered if du Mont was the famed La Tigresse herself.

In the distance Hunt heard the sound of vehicles revving up as if they were about to depart from the camp. Hunt turned his rifle and focused on the front gate of the camp to see a staff car emerge. In the open car he could see two officers sitting in the back seat. His target was sitting on the right hand side of the back seat.

"Sturmbannfuhrer Fromm, I presume." Hunt said in a low voice.

A short burst of submachine gunfire erupted in the field. Hunt swivelled his rifle to the field beside the road and saw a trio of soldiers running to where the du Mont niece had been standing. She was now laying on the ground. Hunt thought she had been hit. A moment later he was pleased to see that she had not been shot. She returned fire, bringing down one of the soldiers. The remaining soldiers crouched down and continued firing as they made their way towards her.

The sound of the gun battle reached the staff car. It came to a T junction and suddenly swerved to the right and disappeared behind a hedgerow, the two trucks following the staff car followed rapidly.

"Damn it!" Hunt cursed.

The gun battle taking place in the field had intensified. Looking over Hunt saw another group of soldiers were rushing to reinforce their two companions. He counted a total of six soldiers closing quickly on the young woman. The woman was trying to crawl backwards into the cover of the hedge.

Jackson Hunt grabbed his rifle and quickly rose to his feet. He ignored the loud pops of complaint from his knees. He might have missed bagging his target but there were other German soldiers that could fill his place.

He might have been old and greying but Jackson Hunt prided himself on his fitness. He came down the rise, crossed the road and reached the hedgerow. Finding a place to push through he ignored the scrapes of the small branches. The du Mont woman was not returning the German's fire.

Emerging into the field Hunt raised his rifle and turned in the direction of where the soldiers were firing. They were about fifty feet away and spread out in a semi circle. He saw the woman laying on the ground about twenty feet ahead of him. She was struggling with her weapon, from the looks of things it must have jammed and she was trying to clear it. She was swearing loudly while ignoring the bullets that were kicking up dirt around her. Hunt was impressed with her coolness under fire.

The soldiers had not spotted him but they had stopped firing and were now ordering the woman to surrender. The woman was ignoring them as she continued working on her gun. He had to give it to her, the gal had a lot of guts, Hunt thought to himself.

Hunt pointed his rifle at the soldiers and fired, picking off one soldier after another in rapid succession until all six soldiers lay dead on the ground. The young woman looked around to see Hunt standing a short distance away. She pointed her weapon at him.

"Monsieur Chasseur?" Kate asked in surprise, lowering her gun.

Jackson Hunt nodded his head. He liked the cover name he had been given for this mission, Jean Chasseur. Someone in London had a sense of humour. He motioned to the du Mont girl to get up and follow him as he turned and started walking the way he came. There was no point in hanging around. The gunfire would bring more soldiers and he wanted to be as far away from here as possible.

Kate watched as Hunt walked away. A moment later she scrambled to her feet and quickly joined him.

"Merci." Kate said in a low voice.

Hunt glanced at her and smiled.

"You're welcome." He said in English.

"You're American?"

"Yeah." Hunt said.

Kate was jolted as she suddenly was reminded of her earlier encounter. To her ear he sounded just like that American paratroop officer she had encountered.

Hunt motioned to her Sten gun. "Problem with your weapon?"

"Damn thing jammed." Kate hissed.

Kate could not quite contain the anger she felt at having missed her target all because of a weapon that had jammed. Once more she silent cursed the German patrol that had spotted her and opened fire.

Hunt nodded his head slowly. "These things happen."

Reaching the road, Hunt held up his hand motioning her to stop. He looked up and down the road and seeing the coast was clear crossed it and started up the rise where his hide out was. Kate followed him a moment later.

"OSS?" Kate ventured in a low voice.

Kate had been wondering what organisation the man was working for.

"Did you say something?" Hunt asked.

"I asked if you're with the OSS."

"Something like that." Hunt grinned. "You?"

Kate shook her head. "SOE."

"Ah." Hunt nodded.

Hunt had been expecting to hear the plummy of an aristocratic daughter of some English nobleman but he had managed to hide his surprise when he heard an American accent coming out of her mouth. A New York accent to be exact. He was sure that there was an interesting story there somewhere about how a young American woman had come to be working for the British SOE. If he had the time he would have liked to have heard it. Unfortunately this was not the time or place to hear it.

"Busy night, tonight." Kate remarked.

Hunt looked up to the sky and saw the aircraft deploying more paratroopers.

"An understatement." Hunt replied.

Reaching his hide out Hunt retrieved his bag from beneath some branches and leaves. He broke down his rifle and stowed the parts in the bag. He turned to look at Kate and held out his hand for her weapon. Kate hesitated a moment. She was not keen on handing her weapon over even if it wasn't working. It left her feeling a little vulnerable. Yet this man had saved her, she reminded herself. If he had intentions of killing her he would have done it already. She passed the Sten gun over.

Kate thought that he was going to put it into the bag as well but was surprised to see him quickly pull it apart, clear the obstruction that had rendered it inoperable at the most inopportune moment, put it back together and then handed it back to her.

"It should be good as new again." Hunt said with a grin.

Kate pulled out the ammunition clip and tossed it away and replaced it with a fresh clip. She cocked the weapon chambering a round and then looked over to Hunt.

"Thanks for that."

Hunt nodded his head slowly.

Kate watched as the man pulled a hat out of the pocket of his jacket and pulled it low over his eyes. He looked about him a moment before he turned his gaze to her and smiled. There was a cold steeliness in those blue eyes of his but there was also a hint of amusement as well.

"My house is not too far away..." Kate said hesitantly.

"We both have work to do tonight." Hunt replied.

"Yes, yes we do." Kate nodded.

Kate held out her hand to the man who had saved her. Hunt took her hand and shook it.

"Good hunting, young lady." Hunt said.

"You too."

With a nod of her head Kate turned and quickly set off in the direction of the du Mont farm house. After having gone a few yards she turned to look behind her. She was startled to find that the man who rescued her had vanished.

As she resumed walking Kate could not help but wonder who the man was. Realising that she was wasting her time on that question she shook off the thought and focused her attention on the work that lay ahead of her. She had to find the other members of her cell and make sure that the objectives that London had set for them were achieved.

XXXXX


	4. Chapter 4

Curse of The Blue Butterfly

Chapter 4

Saturday 1st September 1945

Military Police HQ Paris

Castle sat in the interview room tapping his fingers on the table top, a steady rhythmic drumming. He was trying to keep at bay his growing irritation. He had been sitting at the table for the past ten minutes. The last thing he had been expecting on his first visit to the city of lights in close to a year was to be sitting in an interview room at Military Police headquarters.

It had not been easy getting a three day leave pass to Paris but somehow he had managed it. Originally he had tried to get leave back in June but his CO had vetoed that request because the division had been given orders to go to Berlin. The only guys allowed to leave the division were the veterans with enough points to be shipped back home. As for everybody else, they had to pack up and head to Berlin where the division had been tasked with occupation duties in the American sector.

It had been mid August when Castle had put in for leave again. This time Castle's CO was in two minds about approving the leave request and Castle had to resort to practically begging while also adding a few promises before the CO was finally swayed. At the time Castle had been involved with some of the preparations for the Victory Parade that was going to be held in Berlin on the 7th September. The 82nd Airborne was going to feature prominently as the American representatives of the victorious allies.

He had been so busy with the preparations he had not been able to fly out of Berlin until early this morning having hitched a ride on an army air corps transport.

Before he had left for the air field Castle had stopped by his CO's office and spoke to the old man. The Old Man had dropped hints that when Castle returned from leave he would be given a new job and with the new job would come a promotion.

On the flight to Paris Castle wondered what new job the general was going to give him. He did not dwell on those thoughts for too long, figuring that he would find out soon enough on his return to Berlin.

By the time the transport plane had touched down in Paris, Castle had his leave already mapped out. He would check into his hotel and spend the afternoon returning to some of the old haunts he had visited on the Left Bank of the Seine before the war. With a bit of luck he might meet some old friends he used to drink with back then. In the early evening he would get something to eat and then he would take in a show at the Folies Bergère. Day two of his leave would be spent doing some sight seeing. Day three would be spent getting a few things he had promised his CO and a few comrades.

Yet no sooner had he checked in and dumped his bag in his hotel room that he had gotten a call requesting his presence at MP headquarters because one of his men had been arrested by the MPs.

Castle paused the tapping long enough to check his watch and frowned at the time. What he expected to be a five minute visit was turning out to be something that was going to take much longer. His fingers resumed their tapping. So much for the plans he had made.

The door to the room opened and a corporal walked in. He carried with him a file.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Major." The corporal apologised as he walked to the table. "Here is the arrest report you requested, sir."

Castle took the offered file from the corporal.

"The prisoner should he be here in a few minutes, sir." The corporal informed him before he stepped out of the room.

Castle nodded his thanks and turned his attention to the file in his hands. He opened it up and started reading it. Within moments his eyebrows rose up in surprise. According to the report, Private First Class Kyle Cabot had gotten drunk and started a fight with a group of soldiers who had been sitting at a table near by. A lieutenant had tried to intervene to stop the mêle and had been struck by Cabot. A squad of MPs had to come in and break up the fight. The owner of the cafe was claiming that there had been several hundred dollars in damages caused to his establishment.

Though he had not seen the damage to the cafe himself, Castle was doubtful there had been that much damage caused to the cafe. The owner had probably added a few extra dollars to the damages bill seeing it had been American soldiers who had caused the damage and figured that they had the money to pay.

Castle finished reading the report and then looked it over one more time before he closed the file and set it on the table. He could not help but frown at what he had read.

A minute later the door to the interview room swung open and a white helmeted MP private marched in. Behind him was another MP. Between the two MPs was a dishevelled looking soldier. This was Private First Class Kyle Cabot.

He stood about five foot six, with a thin build that could be easily described as skinny. His dress uniform was torn in a couple of places and the row of ribbons on the chest were hanging by a thread and the pockets on the jacket had been torn off during the fight. The rest of the uniform was covered in dirt and dust.

Cabot sported a fat lip and above the lip was caked in dried blood from a bleeding nose and there was the beginnings of a very nice shiner developing under his left eye. There was another bruise on his right cheek. Both hands had scratches and scabs on the knuckles.

"Prisoner attention!" The first MP barked as all three came to a halt in front of Castle.

"Private First Class, Cabot, sir."

"Thank you gentlemen." Castle replied. "Dismissed."

The two MPs saluted and strode out of the interview room closing the door behind them. Castle turned his attention back to Private Cabot and regarded him silently for a few moments. Kyle Cabot had served in Castle's regiment. As far as Castle could remember Cabot had always been a good soldier with an exemplary disciplinary record. Castle could not recall the man having ever getting into trouble much getting into a fight.

"You look like you've been in the wars, Cabot."

"You should see the other guys, sir."

Castle grinned briefly at Cabot's reply. "Has a doctor checked you out?"

"It looks much worse than it is, sir."

Castle nodded his head. He was not going to push the matter, if Cabot said that he was okay, he would accept it. He then motioned to the file on the desk.

"These are serious charges." Castle said.

Causing a mêle was bad but assaulting an officer was the more serious of the charges that were pending. Right at this moment Castle was not sure if he could get the man off the charges.

Cabot's eyes dropped to the file momentarily before he looked at Castle.

"Yes, sir."

"I thought you were on your way home, Cabot?"

"I was, sir." Cabot replied. "I had a couple of days before I had to report to Camp Lucky Strike and ship out of Le Havre, so I decided to spend a day or two in Paris, taking in the sights, sir."

Castle nodded his head slowly. He had been signing a lot of transfer orders for men of the 82nd Division over the past few months. These were the men who had accumulated enough points and could go home. He seemed to recall Cabot's name was on one of the transfer orders.

"Sit down, Cabot." Castle ordered.

Private Cabot moved slowly to the table. He pulled out the chair and sat down. He sat straight in the chair with his hands clasped together in his lap.

"You want to tell me how you managed to get yourself into this scrape, Private?"

"I'd been walking around all morning, sir." Cabot said slowly. "Taking in the sights, you know?"

Castle nodded his head slowly, encouraging him to continue.

"Around lunch time, I got a little thirsty and I found this little cafe just off the Boulevard Saint Marcel. I found a table on my own. At the next table were three guys from the 101st Airborne. They saw that I was by myself so they invited me to join them."

"That was friendly of them." Castle remarked.

There had been a lot of rivalry between the 82nd and 101st Airborne divisions for a long time now. Most of it was friendly rivalry.

"Yes sir." Cabot agreed.

"Go on, Cabot."

"They were at Bastogne, sir."

Castle nodded his head again. He like everybody else knew about the exploits of the 101st Airborne during the siege of Bastogne. When the Germans had launched their last gasp offensive on the 19th December 1944 through the Ardennes forest, both the 82nd and the 101st Airborne divisions had been hastily thrown into the line to blunt the German attack.

The 101st had been sent to Bastogne, a vital road link. They held the town and the immediate surrounds and fought off the Germans. They continued to fight off the Germans despite being encircled by the Germans. For several weeks they managed to hold off the might of the German army during what became known as the Battle of The Bulge. When the town was relieved, the 101st called themselves the battered bastards of Bastogne, it had become the division's unofficial motto.

Castle and the men of the 82nd Airborne had fought in the Battle of the Bulge as well, in the Amblève-Salm sector not far from Werbomont, a town north of Bastogne. The conditions may have not been as bad as those experience by the 101st but they had been bad enough. It was something Castle never wanted to experience ever again. Even now when he thought back to that battle, he shivered involuntarily as he remembered the cold. It had been one of the worst winters he had ever experienced.

"Well, we were having a quiet drink and sharing our experiences during the Bulge, sir." Cabot continued with his story. "There were these guys from the 4th Armoured sitting at a nearby table, and they were getting a little rowdy. They saw that were airborne, sir."

Castle started to see where this was going but he held his tongue letting Cabot tell story.

"They asked how did we feel being rescued by Patton?" Cabot paused and he made a sour looking face as he shook his head. "The boys from the 101st replied that they didn't need no rescuing from Patton. Well, one thing led to another and pretty soon fists were flying, sir."

Castle grinned a little. It was a sore point with the 101st that General Patton and his army got a lot of the glory for lifting the siege at Bastogne and the paratroopers that held off the German army for weeks were almost forgotten in the aftermath. The 4th Armoured Division was part of General Patton's 3rd Army.

"So, how did you get involved, Cabot?" Castle inquired. "This wasn't your fight."

"It kind of was, sir. The 101st are family. I couldn't stand back and just watch, sir."

Castle nodded his head in understanding. If he had been there in all probability he would have gone to the assistance of the boys from the Screaming Eagles. Cabot was right, they were family, cousins.

"And you struck an officer?" Castle said.

"They said I did, sir but I hit a few guys during the fight." Cabot shrugged his shoulders, as if to say that he did not know if he did or not and did not care.

"Well, did you at least win the fight?"

Cabot suddenly broke into a grin.

"When the MPs broke up the fight, there were three 4th Armoured laying on the floor out cold but the Airborne boys were all still standing, sir." Cabot said proudly.

Castle smiled at that response. He was pleased to hear that Cabot had maintained the honour of the airborne divisions. If nothing else Castle now had an interesting story to tell his brother officers when he returned from leave. He was sure they would not believe him when he told them about Private Cabot and the fight he had gotten in whilst on leave in Paris.

The smile on Castle's face did not last long. It faded as he sat up a little straighter in his chair. The charges were serious, assaulting an officer was a court martial offence and if it got to that and he was found guilty, Cabot could be looking at doing some serious time in the stockade.

He tapped the closed folder. He had to find a way to get Cabot off the charges he was facing.

"What's going to happen to me, Major Castle?" Cabot asked in a hesitant voice.

Castle stopped tapping the folder and looked across the table to the now worried looking paratrooper.

"You could be facing time in the stockade, Cabot."

Cabot's worried look intensified a little more on hearing that piece of news. He shifted nervously in his chair.

"I said you could, I didn't say you will, Cabot."

Cabot looked hopefully at Castle. He opened his mouth to say something but Castle held up his hand and stopped him.

"I can't promise you anything, Cabot but I'll see what I can do." Castle told him.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Castle picked up the file and rose to his feet.

"I'll see if I can spring you from here at least, okay?"

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."

Castle nodded and then headed for the door.

XXX

"Sergeant Mezzara?" Castle asked.

Sergeant Mezzara looked up from the paperwork he was working on to find Castle standing in the open doorway of his office.

"Sergeant Gill Mezzara, that's me. What can I do for you, Major?" He asked.

"You might be able to help me with this." Castle replied, holding up the file in his hand as he entered the office.

He walked up to the sergeant's desk and passed over the file.

"Ah yes, Private Cabot." Sergeant said, looking at the name on the file. "This is my case, sir."

"So, what can we do about it?" Castle asked as he sat down.

Sergeant Mezzara set the file on his desk and opened it. He started to peruse it.

"Well, the mêle charges we can leave to his CO, sir." Sergeant Mezzara observed as he flipped through the pages of the file.

Castle nodded his head. He had been ready to make that very same suggestion.

"What if restitution was made to the cafe owner?" Castle offered.

Sergeant Mezzara looked up from the file.

"I'm sure the cafe owner would be amenable to a generous restitution for the damage caused to his cafe, sir." Sergeant Mezzara agreed. He then waved down at the file. "The assaulting an officer that's the serious charge here, sir."

Castle frown a little. He did not need to be told assaulting an officer was a very serious offence.

"He's got a suspected broken jaw, sir." Sergeant Mezzara added.

Castle frowned a little more at that piece of news. He had been hoping to be able to talk to the guy and see if he could persuade the man to drop the assault charge. That hope had faded when Sergeant Mezzara had said that the Lieutenant had a suspected broken jaw. He doubted the officer would be willing to drop the charge now.

Sergeant Mezzara closed the file and leaned back in his chair and looked at Castle.

"I gotta tell you, sir this Lieutenant is a real pain in the ass. He's made a few complaints over the past few months. Usually it's been against combat veterans."

"He sounds like a real peach." Castle muttered.

"He's a paper pushing desk jockey in Quartermaster HQ." Mezzara said sourly.

Suddenly an idea came to Castle. He leaned forward in his chair trying to contain his sudden enthusiasm.

"What if he received a medal for the injuries he suffered." Castle suggested. "A Purple Heart perhaps?"

Sergeant Mezzara's eyebrows shot upwards as he stared back at Castle.

"Sir, I don't have to remind you a Purple Heart is awarded to those wounded in actual combat."

"A Soldier's Medal then." Castle countered. "It could be said he got wounded in a combat situation."

Sergeant Mezzara looked doubtful.

"Alright, it was an unarmed combat situation."

"But, sir..."

"Look, Sergeant. Cabot is a good kid, with a clean record." Castle pressed. "He's a good soldier with combat jumps in Normandy and Holland. Been awarded a Bronze Star. He went to the assistance of fellow paratroopers, like any good soldier would do."

Castle saw that Mezzara did not look convinced.

"The lieutenant gets a medal in return for dropping the charges."

Sergeant Mezzara sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Cabot is on his way home to his folks in Crown Heights."

"He's from Brooklyn?" Sergeant Mezzara said with a little excitement.

Castle nodded his head. "Born and bred."

"We're practically neighbours, I'm from Bed-Stuy."

"So waddya say, Sergeant? Can you see you're way to help a fellow New Yorker?"

Sergeant Mezzara paused and thought over Castle's suggestion for some moments. He looked over to Castle.

"I suppose if it was presented the right way, the Lieutenant might go for it, sir." Sergeant Mezzara said slowly.

"Leave the persuading to me, Sergeant." Castle smiling. "I know a guy who can arrange the medal."

"Okay, sir."

"And I'll personally see to it that the cafe owner is compensated for the damages caused.

"I guess you have yourself a deal, major."

Castle smiled as he rose to his feet. Sergeant Mezzara got up as well.

"Would it be asking too much sergeant, if Private Cabot were released into my custody?"

"That's no problem, sir. I'll arrange it myself."

"Thank you, sergeant."

Castle held out his hand to the sergeant. Sergeant Mezzara reached out and shook Castle's hand. Sergeant Mezzara motioned towards his door and both men walked out of the office.

XXX

1st September 1945

CIB HQ Frankfurt

Sergeant First Class Mike Royce was a good cop with a good cop's instinct for sniffing out crime and criminals. The years he had spent in the New York Police Department working in some of New York's toughest precincts had been the perfect training ground for the job he was doing now here in occupied Germany. He and the members of his unit were constantly kept busy.

When he had joined up in 1942 He wanted to fight the Nazis or the Japs he did not care which, either one would do. The last thing he had expected was that he would be trading in his blue uniform of the NYPD for a uniform in the military police and then the Criminal Investigation Division. Yet that is exactly what had happened. After boot camp the army had sent him to MP school.

Once he graduated from the MP school he had been sent to England. He spent his time in England prior to the invasion of Normandy mainly investigating the theft of Army equipment and supplies from camps and depots. Some of the stuff he was able to recover before it could hit the black market but most of it wound up there. There was the occasional serious crime that landed on his desk from time to time like assault, rape or murder.

Following the liberation of Paris, Allied Headquarters had transferred to France and Royce found himself dealing with the same stuff he had been handling in England. Now that he was stationed in Occupied Germany the type of work he dealt with had not changed.

The work may not have changed but the workload had. With the war now over Royce had found he lost several of his most experienced investigators. They accumulated enough points to return to the States to be demobilised. The replacements Royce had been given were very green and he spent half his time training these newbies, just like he had done when he had been in NYPD before he had enlisted.

A perfect example was his unit's commanding officer, a newly minted second lieutenant fresh out of Officer Candidates School with a background in ordinance and not a single idea of how to police an occupied country. That was the army for you. Royce was thankful the lieutenant spent most of his time at the officers' club and kept out of his hair.

Royce finished the report he was reading and checked his watch to find that it was nearing eight o'clock. He leaned back in his chair and looked out of his office into the main office area. He was not surprised to find Kate Beckett still at her desk pouring over files. Beckett was a temporary secondment to his CIB unit. She had shown up a few days ago.

Royce studied her for a couple of moments. In truth he had not been too thrilled when she had shown up but he was short handed and she had one thing everyone else here did not have, she spoke German. He had given her the truck hijackings case. He wanted to see what she could do with it.

He had did some checking on her hoping to find something that might get her returned from whence she came. His checking turned up that Beckett was a member of the OSS and prior to that she had been with the British. She had been a Resistance agent in France for most of the German occupation of that country and had been in Normandy when the allies had invaded. Being an undercover agent took some balls he had to admit.

Rising from his chair he left his office and walked over to her desk.

"Why don't you call it a night, kid?" Royce said. "It's late."

Kate looked up from the file she had been reading and saw Royce standing at her desk.

"In a little while." She replied.

"You've been here all day." Royce said. "Don't you have some hot date or something to do tonight, kid?"

Kate's eyebrows knitted together as she continued to look at Royce.

"You do know that I out rank you, sergeant?"

"Not in here you don't, kid." Royce smirked.

Kate conceded the point with a curt nod of her head. She did not like being addressed as 'kid' but she put up with it, figuring that it was Royce's way of hazing her. When she had shown up here he had not been very pleased but that attitude had changed the following day. She suspected that he had done some checking up on her. If he wanted to call her 'kid', she would put up with it. The one thing she had noticed was that Royce did not address her as 'kid' in front of the others.

"What have you got?" Royce asked, nodding to the file Kate had been reading.

Kate leaned back in her chair. She waved at the file.

"The drivers' statements." She said. "I was going over them."

"Uh-huh."

"It's none of the drivers of the trucks."

Royce nodded his head slowly at her statement. There had been three truck hijackings in the past two week. The loads had been mainly cigarettes. He had interviewed the drivers himself and had eliminated them as suspects. He could not help but wonder if he might have missed something. Suddenly he was intrigued to find out what Beckett had come up with.

"Go on." Royce prompted.

"All three hijackings took place in three different locations but all in the same sector."

"Yeah." Royce nodded his head.

"I then went over MP checkpoints and their reports. They knew the trucks were coming but not when."

Royce nodded his head again. Suddenly he picked up Kate's empty coffee cup and strolled over to the bench where the coffee pot sat on a warmer. He filled the cup, set the coffee pot back on the warmer and returned to Kate's desk. He passed the cup to Kate. She quirked up an eyebrow at him.

"I could have gotten it myself, you know." Kate pointed out.

"Yeah, I know." Royce shrugged his shoulders as if to say that it was no big deal.

"Thanks."

Kate took a sip of the warm coffee and nodded her head in appreciation. CIB seemed to have the best quality in entire American Zone of Occupation. She could not get enough of the stuff. It had been a few years since she had tasted real coffee and there were times when she was making up for lost time. She took another sip of the coffee.

"Go on." Royce prompted.

"I then checked out the receiving Quarter Master depot here." Kate resumed. "They knew of the arrival of the shipments but not the ETA nor did they know of the exact route the drivers would be taking, though there were only about three that the drivers use."

Royce nodded his head as he listened to Kate.

"So I checked out the originating depot."

Kate paused as she leaned towards her desk and set down her coffee cup. She searched through some of the papers sitting there. She picked up three different sheets of paper and quickly checked them before she held them out to Royce.

"These are the manifests from the hijacked trucks. There are three different dispatchers' names on the bottom of the manifests."

Royce looked at the signatures on the bottom of each manifest. His cop's instinct told him that something was not right. He looked over to Kate.

"I checked out all three names and two of them turned out to be fakes." Kate informed Royce.

Royce looked at the manifests again, this time a little more carefully. His eyes narrowed as he realised what was wrong.

"The hand writing is the same." He declared.

"Yeah."

Kate picked up her cup to hide the smile that she had found something that Royce and his people had not spotted previously. She took a big sip of her coffee before putting the cup down on the desk. She then picked up a file and held it out to Royce.

Royce opened the file and read out the name.

"Staff Sergeant Frank Nesbit." He looked at Kate. "He's our guy?"

Kate nodded her head.

"Looks like it." She replied. "I checked out Sergeant Nesbit and found that his personnel file contained three letters of discipline from his CO for selling supplies without authorisation back in England. He was confined to barracks three times for those offences."

"Who'd he sell the supplies to?" Royce asked.

"To his then girlfriend."

Royce regarded Kate and saw there was a glint in her eye. He knew immediately she had more to say on the matter so he waited expectantly.

"Said girlfriend, who just happened to be the sister of a known black marketeer."

"Good enough for me." Royce announced suddenly, closing the file and passing it back to Kate. "I'll issue orders for his arrest in the morning."

"Actually, I took the liberty of issuing an arrest order." Kate said. "He'll be here tomorrow morning."

Royce was surprised with that last piece of news. He could not help but be impressed with Kate's work on the case. He grinned down at her. She had been with the unit for only a few days and she had done more in that time than some of his men who had been here for a lot longer.

"Good work, Beckett." Royce said, his smile growing. "We'll make a cop of you yet."

"Thanks." Kate smiled.

"Now, get the hell out of here." He growled.

XXXXX


	5. Chapter 5

Curse of The Blue Butterfly

Chapter 5

1st September 1945 Frankfurt

Kate Beckett walked through the foyer of the Carlton Hotel. The foyer, like the rest of the hotel had seen better days as did the rest of the city but an effort had been made to try and make the place a little more respectable. Kate was making her way for the ballroom. She checked her watch and saw that she was only about an hour late, maybe a little less than that.

After leaving the CIB office Kate had rushed back to her quarters to change out of her uniform and into a dress. A quick reapplication of her make up and a rapid brushing out of her hair then she was out the door. Thankfully she had been able to catch a ride from a friendly MP who had dropped her off at the hotel.

The foyer of the Carlton Hotel was full of army uniforms, officers mainly who had chosen to come to the Carlton rather than spend the evening at the Officers' Club. Non commissioned officers were well represented as well. Kate also recognised some nurses from the 97th General Hospital.

The Carlton had a more relaxed atmosphere and everyone here turned a blind eye to General Eisnehower's non fraternisation policy. A reason perhaps why it was a popular meeting place. Amongst the collection of uniforms there were German civilians, those who worked for the occupying power and had a prized curfew pass, and could afford a night out in a place like the Carlton. The local civilians were distinguished by their clothes whose styles were pre-war.

Kate also noticed a number of German women, some were young aged in their early twenties and some a little older than that, dressed a little better than the other civilians, they were engaged in conversation with some army officer or non-com as they hung off their arm, smiling and laughing. They were the working girls, found in almost every hotel and nightclub in the city, out plying their trade. Kate did not begrudge them what they did. They were just trying to survive as best they could.

Entering the ballroom Kate paused at the entrance and looked into the room searching for her friend. At a number of the tables couples were seated, having a meal or having a drink, or just sitting there and talking. At a larger table there was a group of off duty nurses. Within a couple of hours all the tables would be filled up. At the far end of the room was a stage with enough space to hold a big band but at the moment there was four piece group playing slow familiar melodies. In front of the stage an area had been cleared and it served as the dance floor. Later on the singing and dancing would start up, and the place would really start to jump.

Turning her attention from the stage Kate focused her gaze towards the bar. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she spotted her friend perched on a stool at the bar nursing a drink. Kate had been a little concerned her friend would not have waited for her. It would not have been the first time that had happened to Kate. Slowly she made her way to the bar.

"Sorry I'm late, Lanie."

Lieutenant Lanie Parish looked up from her drink and took in Kate.

"About time you showed up girlfriend." Lanie said. "I was thinking you weren't going to show up."

"I got held up at work." Kate explained.

"Uh-huh."

Lanie accepted her friend's explanation with a nod of her head and then waved Kate to the empty stool beside her. She then signalled to the barman who was approaching to get another round of drinks. Despite the numerous shortages here in Frankfurt the owner of the hotel seemed to be able to obtain half decent alcohol for the customers here.

"Should I ask what held you up?" Lanie said.

"You can ask but..." Kate replied then shrugged her shoulders.

"Fair enough."

The barman reached them and passed over their drinks. Kate accepted her drink with a nod of thanks to the barman. She took a sip from her glass.

"Whisky?" She questioned.

"They were fresh out of tequila." Lanie shot back.

Kate smirked at that response. She had mentioned to Lanie sometime ago that tequila was her preferred hard liquor of choice. Lanie made a joke of it every time the two of them went out drinking. Kate took another sip of her drink before she set the glass down on the counter.

She looked over at her friend. Lanie had really dolled herself up for tonight, she noted. She wore a long red short sleeve dress puffed up a little at the shoulders, it was cinched at the waist with a small leather belt which accentuated the curves of her body. It was also cut a little daringly at the front that showed her cleavage to good affect and could turn more than a few heads. It was a dress Kate had not seen before. It must have been something Lanie must have picked up in Paris before her deployment here in Frankfurt, to be worn on a special occasion like tonight, she figured. Lanie's lipstick was in a shade that matched her outfit.

"I aim to misbehave tonight, girlfriend." Lanie declared as if she was reading Kate's mind.

To emphasise the statement Lanie cast a look over the room, surveying the available talent.

"Don't you always, Lanie?" Kate laughed.

Lanie turned to look at Kate.

"At least I know how to have fun."

"So do I." Kate said but even to her own ear it sounded a little defensive.

"You knew tonight was my last night before I ship out and was planning on having some fun with my best friend and yet you were late because of work." Lanie said pointedly.

Kate shrugged her shoulders in apology in response to Lanie's remark. She could not deny she had been working long hours. When she had been seconded to CIB she had not been too thrilled but the moment Royce had given her the truck hijackings case file she had dived into it. She wanted to show him that she was not some pretty decoration for the office. She wanted to prove to him she could do the job. It had meant working long hours and also having to cancel a couple of meetings with Lanie after hours. The compliment Royce had given her earlier had meant a lot. Still she felt bad that she had arrived an hour late.

"So what are you going to do when you get back to the States?" Kate asked, changing the subject.

"Try and get my old job back at first." Lanie informed her. "I might try and get into medical school."

"Good for you." Kate smiled.

Lanie was a nurse at the 97th General Hospital. She had been in the first group of nurses that had come when the hospital had been set up. Kate had met Lanie a couple of months ago in the Officers' Club. With both of them being New Yorkers they had naturally gravitated to each other and pretty soon had become friends. Lanie had mentioned to Kate a desire to become a doctor on a couple of occasions.

"So what are you going to do, girlfriend when I'm gone?" Lanie asked.

"I'll manage to survive." Kate rolled her eyes.

"Of course you will." Lanie agreed. A small knowing smile settled on her lips. "After all, you have that nice handsome doctor to warm your bed on cold nights."

"Lanie!"

"What?"

Kate shook her head at her friend's boldness as reached for her drink and drained the contents of the glass in one gulp. She signalled to the barman for a refill. Subtlety was not one of Lanie's strong points. Even after a couple of months and knowing what Lanie was like it was still disconcerting when she came out with things like that.

"So how is Doctor Handsome, anyway?" Lanie pressed.

"Good as far as I know." Kate said.

Lanie regarded her friend carefully. She opened her mouth to ask another question but Kate beat her to it.

"He's been sent to Berlin for a few weeks." Kate added. "He left last week."

Lanie's neatly plucked eyebrows rose upwards. "And you're only telling me this now?"

"Sorry." Kate said in a low voice.

"Girl, I'm gonna smack you."

Kate's new drink arrived and she reached for the glass grateful for the interruption.

The doctor in question was Dr Josh Davidson, a surgeon. Kate had first met him back in Normandy a couple of weeks after the first allied landings. A month ago when she had gone to the General Hospital to meet up with Lanie she unexpectedly had run into him and got to talking. She had learned he had only arrived in Frankfurt the day before. She had quickly agreed to go out on a date with him and they had been dating off and on for around a month now.

Kate did not consider their relationship all that serious and she was sure Dr Davidson did not consider them serious, it was just a little bit of fun.

"Well, when the cat's away, the mice are gonna play, honey." Lanie declared as she raised her glass up to Kate.

Kate rolled her eyes and shook her head at her friend but reached for her own glass and raised it and touched the other glass in silent toast. Kate could not argue with her friend. After all she had been working hard all week long and needed a bit of fun tonight, something to take her mind off work.

Kate watched as her friend turned around commenced to survey the room on the look out for potential dates. Kate raised her glass to her lips and took a sip of the whisky. She had to admit that her friend had a good eye when it came to finding suitable men. She would not have been surprised if Lanie had left a whole string of broken hearts stretching all the way back to Paris.

"What do you think of that dreamy looking captain at the end of the bar?" Lanie asked as she nudged her friend's arm.

Kate looked up from her drink and cast a look down the length of the bar to where two men were standing having drinks. Both were dressed in uniforms, one was short and stocky with a balding pate. He wore the insignia of Judge Advocate General Corps. The other man was a little bit taller but had a full head of slick backed black hair. The second man wore the insignia of the Army Air Force. Both men sported Captain's bars.

"Which one?" Kate replied. "The JAG or the fly boy?"

"Fly Boy of course." Lanie replied.

Kate looked at the pilot. He was nice enough looking but Fly Boy did nothing for her.

"I can find someone on my own, Lanie." Kate replied.

"Not you." Lanie retorted. "I'm talking about for me."

Kate looked at the captain again and gave him a careful once over. She then looked at her friend.

"It's your party, Lanie." Kate said, reaching for her drink.

Lanie beamed brightly.

"I'll see you later, girlfriend." Lanie said as she picked up her purse and slid off her stool.

Kate watched with amusement as her friend sashayed along the bar to where the pilot was standing. The man broke into a big smile when Lanie eased herself next to him. It's your lucky night fly boy, Kate thought to herself with a grin.

Before Kate turned back to the bar she paused to look about the room. There were more people seated at the tables having meals. From the looks of things tonight was going to be a busy night. None of the men present in the room took her interest but it was still a little early.

Just as she was about to turn back to her drink her gaze went to the entrance of the room and she saw the tall willowy blonde woman enter on the arm of an older man. She was dressed in a powder blue evening dress cut low at the front that could have come from one of the more exclusive fashion houses in Paris, a thin black cotton wrap was leisurely draped across her shoulders. She was attractive and her entrance certainly turned a few heads. Kate knew the woman. Her name was Gretchen Mueller.

Her companion was aged in his late fifties or early sixties with closely cropped grey hair. He was dressed in a brown three piece suit that had been in fashion over a decade ago. A pair of horn rimmed glasses sat half way down the bridge of his nose. His lips were curved into a smug looking smile as he walked the room with the woman on his arm, enjoying the appreciative and longing looks most of the men in the room were casting in the direction of the woman.

As the pair walked past Kate caught the other woman's eye. Recognition sparked in Gretchen's pale blue eyes. Kate turned to the counter and picked up her drink and drained what remained in the glass. Setting the glass down she signalled the barman for another drink.

The drink arrived a couple of minutes later. Kate nodded her thanks as she picked up the glass and took a sip of the whisky. She reminded herself that she had not eaten all day and had two whiskies already so she had to take it easy. Getting off the bar stool Kate picked up her purse. She looked over to the table where Gretchen was sitting. The other woman laughed at something her companion had said. She glanced in the direction of the bar and caught Kate's eye. Kate turned and made her way to the ladies bathroom.

XXX

Kate was standing in front of the large mirror in the bathroom applying some lipstick when she heard the door to the bathroom open. In the mirror she saw Gretchen Mueller enter. Kate capped her lipstick and returned it to her purse. Before closing the purse she made sure her gun was there.

Even though the war was now over Kate still made sure to carry a gun in her purse when ever she went out. She carried a gun with her at all times. The streets were not all that safe at night. She would rather be safe than sorry.

Slowly Kate turned away from the mirror as Gretchen walked towards her.

Gretchen cast a furtive, hesitant look in the direction of the cubicles and saw the doors of the cubicles open. When Kate had walked into the bathroom she had checked each cubicle, leaving the doors open. It was a way of showing the other woman that they were alone in the bathroom.

Up close Gretchen looked a lot older than her thirty years but the make up kept at bay the ravages of time. Her eyes certainly looked older, they had seen far too much and had done far too much for someone her age. As she approached there was a harried, worried look on her face.

It was a look that Kate was very familiar with. She had seen it often enough on the faces of her comrades in the Resistance back in France. Perhaps she might have shown it on her own face too on occasion. Getting caught by the Gestapo was a constant fear that they had to live with. She had seen plenty people dragged out of lines by soldiers all because they had worried expressions on their faces. The fear of capture had been with Kate through out her time when she operated as an allied agent in Occupied France. That fear had faded only after the allies had landed in Normandy.

"That's some set of rocks you're wearing." Kate remarked motioning to the eye catching large white and blue diamond encrusted butterfly necklace Gretchen was wearing around her neck. The diamonds sparkled in the light of the room making the pendant seem alive. Kate noticed that the silver necklace had blue and white diamonds embedded in it.

"The Blue Butterfly?" Gretchen said, speaking in a smokey toned accented English as she pointed to the necklace.

Kate nodded her head, a little surprised that the necklace had a name.

"Not mine, I'm afraid." Gretchen said, disappointment lacing her voice.

Kate nodded her head in understanding. What woman would not want to own such a stunning piece of jewellery. Kate knew there was no way in the world she would ever get the opportunity to wear such a beautiful piece of jewellery, but a girl could dream.

"It is Dieter's property."

Dieter was Dieter Hoffman, the man that Gretchen had come with. Kate could not help but wonder where a man like Hoffman could get his hands on such an expensive piece of jewellery. Her first thought was that he had stolen it.

"Dieter insists I wear it when we go out together." Gretchen added. "He likes his possessions to look pretty."

Gretchen stepped up to the mirror and set her purse on the bench. She opened the purse and took out a packet of American cigarettes. She took one out and then offered the packet to Kate.

"No thanks." Kate replied.

Gretchen lit up her cigarette. She drew heavily on it then tilted her head up and blew out a long stream of smoke at her reflection. Kate watched her for a couple of moments. She saw the other woman look in the mirror to the door behind them. Though Gretchen was trying her best not to show it, she was looking fearful that they might be caught.

"What have you found out?" Kate asked finally, turning the subject of conversation to the reason why they were standing in the women's bathroom.

Gretchen eyes focused on Kate but she did not speak immediately. Instead she drew on her cigarette and slowly exhaled.

Gretchen was Kate's confidential informant and had been for the past couple of months. She supplied titbits of information, most of it did not turn out to be much but Kate passed it up the line for further action. Ten days ago Gretchen had said she might have information on a wanted former Nazi officer, Heinrich Fromm.

Heinrich Fromm had been Kate's target the morning of D-Day but she had missed him thanks to that encounter with the German patrol. Fromm had slipped away and then later had been ordered back to Berlin. In the days before the fall of Germany Fromm had disappeared from the public. There were rumours about him that he was the head of a Werwulf cell in the Frankfurt area.

One of the fears that troubled the allied generals was the possibility the Germans had set up resistance cells and commandos which would operate behind the lines as the Allies advanced through Germany. This plan was called the Werwulf Plan. After the fall of Germany it was shown that the Werwulf Plan was more an exercise in propaganda than any actual plan. However, orders remained in place that the destruction of these cells and the arrest of leaders of these cells was a priority for the Counter Intelligence Corps and the OSS.

"Dieter is meeting with Fromm tomorrow night." Gretchen announced in a low voice.

"You're sure?"

Gretchen nodded.

"Where?"

"Fromm has a house in Bad Homburg." Gretchen said. She took a another puff on her cigarette and exhaled the smoke quickly. "The house belongs to his sister, Marta Schumann."

"When?"

"The meeting is set for nine o'clock."

"And you are sure of this?" Kate pressed.

Gretchen turned from the mirror to look at Kate.

"Yes, I am sure." She said.

Kate looked at Gretchen and waited.

"Dieter talks in his sleep."

Kate raised an eyebrow and Gretchen shrugged her shoulders in response. She took a puff on her cigarette and exhaled the smoke slowly from the corner of her mouth. A smile began to form on her lips.

"Soon, I will not have to worry about all of this." Gretchen waved her hand that held the cigarette about taking in the room but signifying a lot more.

"Oh?"

"Soon, I will get away from this hell hole, go to your homeland." Gretchen's smile deepened. "Start a new life."

Kate's eyebrows rose upwards in surprise. She had heard the same from many Germans, their desire to travel to America and start a new life there. For most of them it was just merely wishful thinking. Most would never be able to obtain the necessary documentation to get them to the States

Gretchen sounded very certain that she would soon be leaving.

"You don't believe me?" Gretchen asked sounding a little amused.

Kate shrugged her shoulders in answer.

"Don't worry, I have the ammunition needed for me to obtain the proper documents."

Gretchen took a final draw on her cigarette and then crushed the rest of it in the ashtray that sat on the sink.

Kate spent a moment weighing the information the other woman had provided.

"Okay." Kate said finally. "Thanks for that."

Gretchen nodded her head in response and then focused her attention to her reflection in the mirror and commenced to touch up her hair making sure it was just right. Kate watched her for a moment before she pushed off the sink and headed for the door. If the information Gretchen had provided was good then she would have earned the curfew pass Kate had gotten her after their first meeting.

As she left the bathroom Kate did not spend too much time wondering what Gretchen had meant about having the information that would see her getting travel documents.

XXX

Kate emerged from the ladies bathroom and headed straight for the hotel foyer and to one of the empty phone booths. It took a couple of minutes to have her call put through to her immediate boss, Major Fallon. Once she got through and being aware that it was unsecured line they were on, Kate had informed the major in a round about way what she had been told. It was enough for the major to order her to see him in his office immediately.

Kate strode onto the dance floor to where Lanie was dancing cheek to cheek with her Fly Boy captain. Her friend seemed to be happy getting to know the army pilot.

"Lanie, I got to go." Kate announced, tapping her friend on the shoulder.

"What?" Lanie said. She broke away from the captain to look at her friend. "Please tell me you've bagged yourself a handsome soldier boy or something?"

"I'm afraid not, Lanie." Kate replied with a small shake of her head.

"It's still early, girl. Don't give up so soon." Lanie exhorted.

"Sorry but I got to go." Kate explained. "Something came up at work."

Lanie stared at her friend for a couple of moments as if she was wondering whether her friend was lying to her but she saw the serious expression on Kate's face and knew that there was no subterfuge. They might have been good friends but there was a lot Kate could not tell her about the work she did. Lanie knew that Kate had served in France under the German occupation but not what she had done there. The few attempts to find out had been met with an apologetic stonewall. She knew from past experience Kate would not leave if she did not have to.

Suddenly Lanie stepped up to Kate and pulled her into a hug.

"You call me when you get back to New York, do you hear me girlfriend." Lanie stated.

"I will Lanie." Kate replied as she hugged her friend back. "Promise."

Kate broke from her friend's embrace and stepped back.

"Fly Boy's waiting, Lanie." Kate motioned.

"See ya later, girlfriend."

Lanie grinned before she turned and went back to her date. Kate smiled at her friend then turned around and quickly walked out of the room.

XXXXX


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sunday 2nd September 1945 Frankfurt

The loud insistent knocking on the door dragged Kate Beckett from her sleep. Cracking open her eyes she stared up the ceiling listening and wondering if she had dreamt the loud knocking. Almost as soon as that thought had entered her head there came more knocking more insistent than before. Kate let out a loud groan of frustration. No, didn't dream it, she thought to herself.

Slowly Kate hauled herself up from her bed. Her whole body felt sluggish and tired, rebelling at having being woken far too soon. She had come home some time around three o'clock in the morning after having spent nearly five hours organising the raid on the house in Bad Homburg. And that had been after putting in a full day in CIB. She had wanted to go on the raid herself had even had a shouting match with Major Fallon over it but the major would not budge an inch. She was staying home for this dance as the major referred to it.

She was still angry about not attending the raid in Bad Homberg. She desperately wanted to be there when they arrested Fromm.

Glancing at the nightstand and saw that it just after seven in the morning. That made her groan again. Grabbing her robe Kate threw it on as she made her to the door to find out who was knocking. Unlocking the door she threw open to find a WAC sergeant with a clench fist in mid air about to launch another barrage on the door.

"What the hell is it, Hastings?" Kate demanded more than a little grumpily.

"Sorry, Kate." Sergeant Ann Hastings replied. "There's a Sergeant Royce waiting for you downstairs."

Kate's forehead creased into a frown. What the hell was Royce doing here? It could not have been about Nesbit. The MPs were not due to deliver him until after nine o'clock in this morning.

"Royce told me to tell you, to saddle up you have a new case." Hastings added.

The frown on Kate's face faded at hearing that piece of news.

"Tell the Royce I'll be down in ten minutes." Kate announced as she closed the door.

Kate threw off her robe as she headed for her small bathroom for a quick shower. She removed pyjama top without bothering to undo the buttons and tossed it over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later Kate came down the stairs to find an impatient looking Sergeant Royce standing in the foyer of the Women's Quarters. Kate would have liked to have a little more time to dry her hair properly but would have to put with it being damp.

"Morning, kid." Royce said. A ghost of a smile appearing his face. "Did I interrupt your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up, Royce." Kate retorted, shooting him a glare for good measure. It made the man grin. She placed her garrison cap on her head. "We got a new case?"

"Yeah, we do." Royce replied. "Come on."

He turned and started for the door. Kate followed him outside and to the waiting jeep he had parked in front of the entrance to the Women's Quarters. He jumped into the driver's seat and started up the engine. Kate got into the passenger seat.

"What kind of case have we got, Royce?" Kate inquired.

"A dead body." Royce replied simply.

"Any details?"

"We'll get them when we get there."

Kate leaned back in the seat of the jeep and cast a look to the passing parade of skeletal and burned out buildings. No matter how many times Kate drove through the streets of Frankfurt she would never get used to the sight of so many bombed out buildings. These destroyed buildings never seemed to end.

Frankfurt had endured some heavy bombing from the allied air forces. Maybe not as bad as Berlin and some other German cities but it was bad enough all the same. Kate could not even begin to imagine how the people could endure such onslaught from the sky day after day.

The year before when Kate had been in Normandy she had been visiting a small town that happened to be near a major railway hub when it had been bombed by the RAF one night, one of many targets assigned to Bomber Command prior to D-Day. Though she had been about a mile or so away from the railway hub she had felt the ground shake and rumble with the explosions as the bombs fell, and she had felt the concussion waves from the exploding bombs. She was not too proud to admit she had been terrified that night.

At this hour of the morning there were only military vehicles on the roads. During the rest of the day the vast baulk of traffic on the roads was still military. The few civilian cars that had not been requisitioned by the army rarely ventured out on the streets as their owners could not obtain the gas needed to run their cars.

At this hour of the morning there were a lot of people out and about, citizens, displaced persons, disarmed soldiers, men, women and even children. Some were making their way to church. The rest were part of a large labour force the American army had put to work clearing the endless rubble. When the army had first arrived to occupy the city they had put the people to work clearing the streets. With Teutonic efficiency the major thoroughfares of Frankfurt had been cleared of rubble to allow the endless convoys of army trucks to roll in. Now the secondary streets were being cleared as were the endless bombed out buildings. Kate did not envy them the task they had been set in clearing the entire city of rubble. It would take forever to her way of thinking.

Kate noticed they had entered a tree lined street in a suburb that had managed to escape the bombing. She turned her head to look at Royce.

"Where exactly are we going, Royce?" She asked.

"Just a couple of miles up this road."

Kate acknowledged Royce's reply with a nod of her head and turned to look at the passing houses and apartment buildings. She let out a loud yawn before she had a chance to cover her mouth.

"Late night, kid?" Royce inquired.

"Yeah."

"So, d'you have fun at least?"

Kate slid her eyes towards Royce expecting to see a smug grin on his face. There was no smug expression on his face as he kept his gaze on the road ahead of him.

"If you call spending four and a half hours organising a raid on a suspected Nazi fugitive fun, then yeah I had fun."

Royce caught the sarcasm in Kate's voice. He cast a glance at her and saw the tired look on her face that told of the many hours she had been up. He also saw the simmering anger bubbling just below the surface. He turned back to face the road before she caught him staring at her.

"How come you didn't go on the raid, kid?" He inquired.

"My boss, felt I was surplus to requirements."

Royce was surprised to hear that but wisely kept his mouth closed.

"They better not let him get away this time, is all I will say." Kate muttered angrily under her breath.

Royce cast a glance in Kate's direction again.

"You've had dealings with this fugitive before?"

"Yeah. Back in Normandy I had a chance to get him but he got away." Kate explained.

The way Kate had said that made Royce glance at her. He saw the hard look on her face. There was a good story there, he thought to himself. Again he did not venture to ask. Something told him that he would not get any answer.

As they came to an intersection Royce slowed the jeep a little before he turned right and then sped down the road. In the distance Kate spotted several military vehicles parked out the front of three storey apartment building. She immediately sat up in her seat as the jeep came to a halt.

Getting out the jeep Royce and Kate approached the front gate of the building. A pair of white helmeted MPs stood guard at the gate. Kate looked about her. She spotted a couple of people from CIB interviewing neighbours who had ventured out of their homes to investigate the commotion. She also saw more than a few faces pressed against the windows from nearby apartments. Those people were not so adventurous but still curious. More than likely would be interviewed before the day was over.

Royce passed the MPs and made his way along the path that led to the front door of the apartment building. Kate quickly caught up to him. Just before he climbed up the set of set of steps to the porch from the open doorway came Corporal Harvey Hudson.

Corporal Hudson was a tall thin man aged in his mid twenties with a permanently sour expression etched on his face. He had a note book in his hand and was jotting something down.

Kate saw walking behind Corporal Hudson a man aged in his mid sixties. His closely shorn hair was snow white in colour as was the neatly trimmed beard that covered his kindly looking face. The suit he wore was ill fitting suggesting that he had lost a lot of weight recently. All that was missing was a long stemmed pipe and he could easily pass off as a Santa Claus with a weight problem, Kate thought to herself.

The white haired man was Inspector Rolf Hauptman, a German civilian police detective who had come out of retirement to work with CIB. He was one of few Germans allowed to resume their previous professions after having been vetted by the army.

Kate had met Inspector Hauptmann on her first day when she had reported to CIB and found him to be a friendly and engaging man who had been one of the first to welcome her to the place. She had learned that he had retired from the force before the war and had been imprisoned by the Nazi regime in the final weeks before its downfall.

"What have we got Hudson?" Royce barked in his gravelly voice.

Corporal Hudson stopped abruptly and looked up from his note book, startled.

"Dead woman." Hudson responded thumbing behind him. "A prostitute more than likely." Hudson closed his note book and finished his report. "Hardly worth our effort, Sarge."

Kate glanced at Royce as saw him narrow his eyes as if he was ready to say something to the corporal. It was that moment when Inspector Hauptman spoke up.

"What the young woman did so that she could live does not lessen the crime that was perpetrated."

"I can do without your remarks, Kraut!" Hudson shouted as he rounded on the Inspector.

Royce stepped up to Hudson getting right in his face. He made no pretense of hiding his anger.

"Hudson canvass all the neighbours." Royce ordered.

"What? Come on Sarge, you gotta be kidding me."

"Does it look like I'm kidding?" Royce growled, getting even closer into Hudson's face. The corporal took a step back but Royce maintained the close distance.

"Canvass the neighbours, now."

Hudson was ready to protest.

"You either go and canvass all the neighbours and do a good job of it too or you can spend the rest of your tour here, all three years of it, shovelling the shit out of every goddam cell in the stockade." Royce said in a dangerous tone of voice.

Hudson pushed past Royce and stormed off down the path onto the street.

"Where's the body?" Royce said turning to Hauptman.

"This way."

Hauptman motioned them to follow him into the house. They climbed up the rickety wooden stairs up to the first floor then led them down the hallway to where another MP stood guard in front of an open door. He stopped beside the MP and motioned for Royce and Kate to enter first and then followed them in.

Kate entered the apartment and saw all the cupboards and drawers had been ransacked some items had been dropped on the floor. Off to her left there was an open door which led into the bedroom. From what she could see the bedroom too had been ransacked.

Slowly Kate turned around and lowered her gaze down to the floor. A table obscured most of the body but she saw that the body wore a long blue dress. It looked a little familiar. Slowly she came around the table and saw the body was sprawled face down on the carpet with the head turned away from her. A large pool of blood spread out from the numerous stab wounds in the back. The blood had soaked into the carpet.

"Some one decided to use her as a pin cushion." Royce remarked.

"Ya." Hauptmann replied grimly.

As Kate cautiously approached the body to get a closer look an uneasiness took hold of her. It was not as if she had not seen a dead body before. She had seen countless numbers of bodies in the past year or so, and many in far worse condition than the one laying here on the floor. It was easy to get used to the sight, far too easy. She could not understand why she would feel uneasy at this moment.

Kate took another step and then crouched down to take a closer look. Suddenly she stilled. A look of shock flickered across her face which she quickly masked hoping that Royce had not caught it. A quick glance saw that Royce was looking over the room. She stared down at the face of the woman laying there and recognising who it was.

"Who found the body?" Royce asked. He was standing over the body.

"The landlady." Hauptman replied as he consulted his notebook. "A Frau Hoffmeier. She was coming down from her apartment upstairs and saw the door open. She got curious, came in and found her...here." Hauptmann waved his hand at the body on the floor.

"Do we have a name?" Royce asked.

Hauptmann flipped through the pages of his note book. "Here name is..."

"Gretchen Mueller." Kate announced as she continued to look down at the body.

Kate could feel their eyes on her but she continued to study the body.

"You know her, Lieutenant?" Royce asked.

Kate nodded her head slowly.

"She was an informant." Kate lifted her gaze to look at the two men. "She provided low grade information from time to time."

Royce acknowledged the information Kate provided with a curt nod of his head and then turned to Hauptmann.

"What else you got for us, Inspector?"

As the Inspector provided what information he had gathered so far Kate studied Gretchen's body carefully inspecting it. She saw the small scratch marks on the neck and angry red line that had been imprinted on the skin.

"She was wearing a necklace." Kate announced, pointing to the marks on the throat. "She was wearing it last night when I saw her."

"You saw her?" Royce asked, sounding a little surprised.

Kate paused in her visual inspection and looked up at Royce.

"At the Carlton Hotel, I was there with my friend and she walked in with Dieter Hoffman." From out of the corner of her eye she saw Hauptmann write down the name she had just provided.

"Did you speak to her?"

"We spoke."

"What about?"

Kate slowly rose up from her crouch. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she turned to look at Royce as she considered what she could tell him. She may have been on temporary secondment to CIB but she was still with the OSS and her work with them was considered secret and need to know.

"Gretchen was an informant." Kate said slowly, having made her decision. "As I said, she provided us low grade information...who's selling black market cigarettes, whose sleeping with who, that sort of thing. Then about ten days ago when we met she tells me she might have information on a wanted Nazi fugitive."

"Who?"

"Heinrich Fromm."

Royce let out a low whistle as he nodded his head. Heinrich Fromm was on everyone's wanted list.

"At the time she didn't have much but promised that once she did she would pass it over. I didn't think much about it at the time."

"Why not?" Royce asked.

"She had made those kinds of promises before." Kate replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "Then I ran into her at the Carlton last night. She said that Fromm was going to be at a meeting tonight at Bad Homburg."

"Did you believe her?"

"Enough to spend almost all night organising the damn raid for tonight."

Royce nodded his head slowly. He flashed Kate a brief smile before he turned and looked down at the body.

"A robbery gone wrong?" He suggested.

"Perhaps..." Kate murmured.

Kate moved slowly around the body making sure not to put her shoes in the blood pool. She crouched down again and studied the stab wounds that could be seen through the torn fabric of the dress.

"Why so many stab wounds?" Kate questioned.

"She walks in on the guy robbing the place, he panics and stabs her repeatedly." Royce offered.

"Okay." Kate murmured, nodding her head slowly. "Why stab her in the back? If she walked in on someone wouldn't they have stabbed her in the stomach and chest?"

"Maybe she tried to run and he caught her?" Royce suggested.

"Maybe." Kate muttered.

"What are you saying, Beckett?"

Kate shook her head. "Don't know yet, Royce, just asking questions at the moment."

Kate looked up at Inspector Hautpmann.

"Inspector did anybody hear any screams?"

"I have my assistant Sergeant Braun questioning the other tenants of the building at the moment." Hauptmann replied. "I suspect no one heard anything."

Kate nodded her thanks and then turned to look at the stab wounds again. She could not help it but she felt there was something familiar about these wounds. From what she could see there were a couple of them that looked deep while the others appeared shallow or at least not all that deep.

Royce crouched beside Kate and inspected the wounds.

"So she was stabbed." Royce said slowly. "Any idea what kind of weapon was used?"

"A stiletto of some kind." Kate offered.

Royce nodded his head in agreement.

Hauptmann crouched down beside Kate and carefully studied the wounds on the body.

"The knife is definitely military." He announced with certainty.

"Are you sure, inspector?" Kate said.

Hauptmann turned to Kate and gave her a gentle knowing smile as he nodded his head. He rose slowly to his feet. Kate and Royce also rose from their crouches.

"The knife you are looking for is a 1918 Mark 1 trench knife."

"You sound very sure, Inspector." Royce remarked.

"I have seen these kinds of wounds before."

"Where?" Royce demanded.

"In St Michel 1918." Hautpmann said with a small smile. "Your Dough Boys were very enthusiastic when using them."

Royce nodded his head. St Michel had been one of the major battles the American army had fought in the last year of World War One. He remembered that battle very well. He had been one of those dough boys

XXX

Kate let out a loud yawn. She had given up trying to cover her mouth. For the past hour she had been yawning quite regularly, a none too subtle reminder by her body that it was in need of sleep. She looked up from the report she was reading to see Royce emerge from his office and approach her desk. She checked her watch and was more than a little surprised that time was seven-thirty. After returning from the murder scene just before midday she had been at her desk going over reports and witness statements for most of the afternoon.

Royce did not stop at her desk but continued over to the coffee pot. He selected two mugs and poured coffee into both of them. He picked up the mugs and brought them over to Kate's desk. He set one of the mugs on her desk.

"Thanks." Kate said, giving him a grateful smile as she accepted the coffee.

"Gather round people." Royce called out.

Corporal Hudson, Inspector Hauptmann and the inspector's assistant Sergeant Braun all rose from their desks and walked over to Beckett's desk. They took up positions on one side of Beckett's desk while Royce leaned against another desk and took a sip of his coffee waiting for them to get ready.

"What do we know, people?" Royce said as he cast a look around the little group. His eyes came to a rest on Kate.

"The autopsy wont be done for a couple of days at least." Kate informed him.

Royce raised his eyebrows in a questioning look.

"A dead German civilian is not considered a priority." She added.

Kate had spent over an hour down at the General Hospital trying to get the doctor designated as the medical examiner to do an autopsy on the body right away only to have her efforts rebuffed. She had tried to cajole the man but nothing worked. The man held the rank of major so he had outranked her. The best she could get as she left the hospital was a vague promise he would get around to doing the autopsy in a couple of days.

"A dead German civilian may not be a priority but a murdered German civilian who was one of our informants certainly is." Royce replied. "Leave it to me, I'll have a word with them."

Kate nodded her head. She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her coffee.

"Fraulein Muller was known to the police." Hauptmann reported as he consulted a file he held in his hand. "Born in Frankfurt April 1918, she had several solicitation convictions in 1934 and 1935."

"She would have been only fifteen or sixteen years old." Kate declared with some surprise, having done the sums in her head.

"Ya, that is correct." Hauptmann confirmed.

"Like I said before nothing but a whore." Corporal Hudson muttered.

Royce levelled a glare on the corporal that had him shutting his mouth very quickly. He turned to Hauptmann.

"Go on." He prompted.

"From late 1935 there are no charges or convictions against her."

"Why's that?" Royce asked.

"She caught the eye of certain Nazi officials. She became a geliebte..."

"A what?" Royce said looking a little confused.

"A paramour." Kate provided. "A consort."

Royce nodded his head and motioned to Hauptmann to continue.

"In the spring of 1939 Mueller came to Berlin and was soon entertaining numerous high ranking Nazi and army officers. In November of last year she returned to Frankfurt."

"Why would she leave Berlin, Inspector?" Kate inquired.

"Berlin was not a very safe place to be. Your aircraft were constantly bombing during the day and the English bombed at night and the Russians were only several hundred miles away."

"I see." Kate said.

"Hudson?" Royce said turning his gaze on the corporal.

"None of the Kraut neighbours in the street saw or heard anything." Hudson replied. "It's all in the statements sitting on my desk, sergeant if you want to take a look at them."

When Corporal Hudson had returned to the office he had spent all afternoon typing up the statements he had taken from his canvass.

"You can go."

Hudson nodded his head and quickly left the office. Royce watched him leave before he turned his attention to Sergeant Braun. Sergeant Peter Braun was about ten years younger than the inspector, taller and thinner than the inspector.

"Most of the residents of the apartment building did not hear anything." Braun informed the group. He paused and consulted his notebook. "Except for Herr Roland Schmidt."

"Who's he?" Royce asked.

"He occupies the apartment below Fraulein Muller's."

Royce nodded his head.

"He said he heard some noise coming from the apartment above but did not think much of it."

"What time was that?" Royce asked.

"He is not sure but thinks it might have been around midnight."

"Why did he not report the noise?" Kate asked.

"Fraulein Muller came and went at all hours." Braun replied. "Sometimes she would entertain at home so he did not think it was anything out of the ordinary."

"Do we know what time she left the Carlton?" Royce asked as he looked at Kate.

"I spoke to the concierge at the Carlton and he said Muller left sometime between twelve-thirty and one o'clock." Kate reported.

"What about her companion, Hoffman?"

"He wasn't at his residence." Kate said. "More than likely he went to the meeting with Fromm in Bad Homburg."

"Let's hope your people manage to pick him in that raid tonight." Royce said.

"Yeah."

"What about the knife?" Royce asked.

Kate picked up her notebook and flipped through the pages until she found the page she was looking for. Glancing quickly at the notes she had written to familiarise herself she then looked up.

"The M1 Trench Knife was issued to both army and marine units at the start of the war. However it was replaced in 1943 by M3 knife. The M1 was mainly issued to Ranger and Airborne units."

"So, our killer could be a ranger or a paratrooper." Royce mused aloud.

"Or someone who picked up the knife from somewhere." Kate suggested. "A souvenir."

Souvenir hunting had become big business from the moment the Allies had landed in Normandy. It mainly concerned German army or Nazi items but a resourceful individual could make a healthy profit selling US Army issued equipment to anyone who had the money.

"Okay." Royce announced. "Tomorrow Hauptmann you and Braun try and track down Mueller's movements for the last week, what she did, who she met, where she went, you know the routine."

"Yes sergeant." Hauptman replied, speaking for his partner as well.

Royce nodded then looked at Kate.

"Beckett, check out any paratroop or ranger units that might be around here."

"You got it Royce." Kate replied as she made a note in her notebook.

"And I'll put a rocket up the medical examiner's ass."

"You've all done well, people." Royce announced as he took a sip from his coffee mug. "You can call it day."

Kate did not need to be told twice. As much as she wanted to remain and continue with the investigation she was too exhausted to be able to get any more work done. She needed to get some rest. She took a large sip of her coffee before she set the mug down on her desk. She extracted her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk and slowly rose to her feet.

"A hot date tonight, kid?" Royce asked with some amusement.

"Yeah, with my bed." Kate shot back.

Saying her goodbyes to the others she walked out of the offices. Her next stop was her quarters and sleep.

XXXXX

_**I would love to hear what you think of this chapter. Drop me a line to let me know.**_

_**Con**_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Monday September 3rd 1946

USFET HQ Frankfurt

"It ain't right."

Kate looked up from the front page of the copy of Stars And Stripes that she had found on the passenger seat of the jeep when she had gotten in. The jeep had been sent for her when she had been summoned by her immediate OSS boss to a meeting. Kate been annoyed at this sudden meeting. She had spent the morning and all of lunch time trying to track down any Ranger or Paratroop units that were in the Frankfurt area or any individuals who might have been on leave in the city. It had been a painstaking task with little to show for it by the time she had received the summons.

"I'm sorry?"

"It ain't right, ma'am. That." The driver said as he motioned to the newspaper without looking away from the road.

Kate looked at the newspaper and saw the photograph of General George Patton the famed commander of the Third Army. She had been reading the article beside the photo about speculation that the General was in some trouble because he was not carrying out denazification in Bavaria in the way his superiors would have liked.

"They seem to be out to get the man." The driver stated.

"Why do you say that?" Kate ventured.

"Because it's true, ma'am."

Kate had read about the exploits of the Third Army and its colourful commander. There were few Generals that had received as much publicity as Patton did but then the man and his army had the score on the board. The writer of the article had said that the Supreme Commander General Eisenhower was furious over Patton's lack of enthusiasm for denazification in Bavaria. She folded the newspaper and set it aside.

She looked out the front window of the Jeep and saw that they were nearing their destination. She then looked at the driver again.

"You serve in the Third, Sergeant?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am, I did." The driver replied, a proud tilt to his chin. "Served in a transport company when we took this city."

Kate nodded her head in understanding. The Third Army had captured Frankfurt on its march across southern German to reach Czechoslovakia before the war came to an end. Over the past few months she had met a number of soldiers who had served or were serving in the Third Army and to a man they were all proud of having served with General Patton.

The Jeep reached the front gates that led into USFET Headquarters and came to a stop at the guard house. Kate looked past the front gates to the building directly ahead. Six multi-storey wings, three on either side of the main entrance rose upwards and looked like unfinished castle battlements. It certainly was unique, there was no other building anywhere in the world like this building. This building once housed the headquarters of the giant industrial concern I. . Kate had read somewhere that this building was the largest office building in all of Europe. She could believe that statement.

Kate had been working out of this building since she had first come to Frankfurt but every time she approached it she felt a little in awe of the size and shape of it.

As soon as the Jeep came to a halt a white helmeted MP stepped from the guard house with his hand held out. The driver pulled out his pass and handed it over to the MP. The MP accepted the pass and then looked over to Kate.

"Your pass ma'am."

Kate reached into the inside pocket of her coat and pulled out her pass and handed it across to the MP. While the MP checked the passes Kate looked around and saw that there were more MPs on duty than there normally was and all of them were armed. Then she remembered that the guards on duty were normally doubled when General Eisenhower was in residence and VIPs were due to see him.

"Thank you ma'am." The MP announced as he returned their passes. "The main entrance is off limits."

Kate's driver nodded his head as he put away his pass and she did the same with her own pass. The boom was raised to allow the jeep through. The jeep travelled down a tree lined road. The headquarters building rose up in the distance. Reaching a large roundabout the driver turned right instead of left that would have lead them to the main entrance. Taking the road to the right it lead them towards one of the secondary entrances.

The driver pulled up the front of the secondary entrance.

"Would you like for me to wait for you, ma'am?" The driver inquired.

"Can you?" Kate replied. "I shouldn't be more than an hour."

"Not a problem, ma'am."

"Thanks." Kate said with as smile as she got out of the Jeep and quickly made her way up the set of steps and into the building.

Kate strode purposefully across the foyer towards the large reception desk that was only marginally smaller to the one in the main reception area. There seemed to be a whole battalion of MPs on duty in the foyer today, she thought to herself. A bored looking staff sergeant in a crisp neat uniform with regulation creases in all the right places was sitting behind the desk and he looked up from the work he was doing.

The bored expression on his face changed to one of surprise when he saw Kate standing before him. The expression changed rapidly as he carefully looked her up and down.

"Pass?" He said finally.

Kate ignored the once over that the sergeant had given her as she handed over her pass for the man to inspect. She was well used to being on the receiving end of such attention from the men around here and ignored the attention.

The sergeant looked a little too young to be holding that rank. The several rows of ribbons he sported on the left side of his jacket seemed at odds with his youth. She doubted he had earned half of those ribbons. He certainly did not have the look that most combat veterans had. He was one of the draft of soldiers that had been shipped in from the States to replace the combat veterans who were steadily heading home. If she was to hazard a guess the half the ribbons on the jacket had put there for show and not feel like the odd man out.

While the sergeant took his time examining her pass and occasionally glancing at her, Kate took the time to look about her. A pair of MPs stood at attention on either side of the staircase watching carefully everyone who walked up or down the stairs. Another pair of MPs were standing at attention by the bank of elevators, and other was standing guard at another elevator, while another pair of MPs were standing in the doorway that led into another wing of the building. There were guards at the entrance as well. The most notable thing was that all wore their sidearms. Amongst the assembled MPs there were a number of faces that she recognised.

General Eisenhower must have been entertaining someone of importance if the parade of MPs on display in the lobby was an indication. Kate thought to herself.

"Who are you here to see, Miss Beckett?" The desk sergeant asked.

Kate having finished her visual inspection of the lobby turned to face the desk sergeant.

"It's Lieutenant Beckett, sergeant." Kate replied sharply as she held out her hand for the return of her pass. "I suggest you get your eyes checked sergeant if you can't read a pass properly."

The sergeant sat up a little straighter in his chair. The smarmy look on his face vanished as he quickly handed the pass back.

Kate narrowed her eyes as she looked at the now worried looking sergeant as she returned the pass to the pocket of her coat. She turned away from the reception desk and started walking.

"Lieutenant..?" The sergeant called out as he rose from his chair. "Excuse me, Lieutenant..."

"As you were, Sergeant, I know my way around here."

Kate strode past the elevators and headed for the stairs barely glancing at the two ramrod straight MPs and quickly climbed up the stairs. Reaching the second floor Kate turned right and started walking along the long corridor. She passed through the wide doorway into the next wing and continued walking, her destination was the farthest wing. Turning another corner she reached the office area that was her destination. She was very familiar with this particular set of offices. Her own desk was located near a window in this open plan office. Yet her destination was not her own desk.

For a moment she surveyed the office area and saw that less than a handful of her colleagues were at their desks. Most of the other desks were unoccupied. A couple of secretaries were moving through the desks depositing files that had been requested by the occupants of the desks. One of the secretaries looked over to see Kate standing there and gave her a wave. Kate smiled and returned the wave.

Turning Kate face the door she had stopped in front of. On the door was a small wooden plaque with the name of the occupier of the office and his rank embossed on it: Major Mark Fallon. There was no job title listed but here in the OSS area of the building, job titles were not mentioned.

She stepped up to the door, knocked on it and walked in not bothering to wait for any response to come from within.

The office was on the small side compared to some cavernous rooms she had seen in the building. To one side there were three four drawer steel filing cabinets. Each had a security system comprising of a steel bar running down it and a padlock securing the bar in place. On the wall opposite the filing cabinets was a bookcase with only a couple of shelves filled with books which were there more for show than to be read. On the wall behind the desk was a framed photograph of the new President of the United States, Harry Truman. Behind the desk and to the side was a wooden coat stand where an army jacket was hanging.

Major Mark Fallon was seated at his desk that was strewn with files. To the left hand side of the desk was a half eaten sandwich which looked like it had not been touched for a couple of hours at least. Fallon was a man aged in his early to mid thirties just around six foot in height with dark brown hair slicked back away from his forehead and a tired look on his face that came from long hours and little sleep.

"You wanted to see me Fallon?" Kate said. The OSS had adopted the lack of formality from their British cousins and Kate liked it that way.

Fallon looked up and then waved her to an empty chair.

"Yeah, I did." Fallon replied as he closed the file he had been reading. He set the file aside and focused his attention on Kate.

"You'll be pleased to know we bagged Heinrich Fromm." He announced with a smile.

Kate allowed herself a smile on hearing the news. Though she was still angry at being refused permission to go on the raid she was pleased that the information Gretchen Mueller had provided had borne fruit. She was also very pleased that this Nazi officer had been captured. She would have been far happier if she had been able to kill him on D-Day morning but she could live with him being sent to prison for a long time for the crimes he had committed.

"Who else did you round up, Fallon?" She asked.

"All in all about a dozen Nazis." Fallon reported.

Kate nodded her head and smiled a little more.

"Was there a Dieter Hoffman amongst the people apprehended?" She asked.

Fallon reached for a file sitting on a small pile at the right hand corner of his desk and then set it down in front of him before he opened it. He glanced down at it for a couple of moments.

"Yeah, there's a Dieter Hoffman on the list." Fallon said. He looked up at Kate.

"Why'd you ask?"

"CIB would like to have a chat with him." Kate explained. "He was one of the last people to have seen our vic alive."

"That shouldn't be a problem. CIB can have him after we've finished with him." Fallon replied as he closed the file and returned it back to where it had been before.

Fallon leaned back in his chair as he looked at Kate.

"Good work on that smuggling case, by the way." He said with a small smile. "CIB were very impressed."

Kate nodded her thanks. She suspected it might have been Sergeant Royce who made sure to pass on CIB's thanks for her help on the hijacking case. Because of the murder investigation, Sergeant Royce had passed the hijacking case to one of his trusted subordinates, one who was a very good interrogator. Nesbit had been in the interrogation room for only an hour before he started singing liking a canary. In return for a lesser sentence he willingly gave up the names of his accomplices. The information Nesbit had provided was enough to start rounding up a major black market ring operating in Frankfurt.

Kate watched as Fallon leaned forward and picked up a packet of Lucky Strikes from his desk and held it out to Kate. She declined the offer of a cigarette with a shake of her head.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, you don't smoke."

Fallon shook out a cigarette and popped it in his mouth. He lit the cigarette with a brass Zippo lighter he picked up from his desk. He drew heavily on the cigarette and then blew out a stream of smoke in the direction of the ceiling. Immediately he picked out a couple of flecks of tobacco from his tongue. Slowly he turned his gaze to Kate.

"They're shutting us down." He announced simply.

Kate's eyebrows shot upwards. She had been hearing rumours for the past few months that the Office of Strategic Services was going to be disbanded. Those rumours had been strengthened following the closing down of Britain's Special Operations Executive following the election of Clement Attlee as Prime Minster a couple of months back.

Kate had been saddened to hear about the SOE's closing down. She had spent the bulk of her time during the war working for them and considered herself still a part of them even though she no longer worked for them. She had made a few few friends when she had spent time at the training establishments and at SOE Headquarters. She felt for some of those people she had worked with. Despite the rumours that had been floating not for a minute did she think that her countrymen would do the same with the OSS. Obviously she had thought wrong.

"When?" Kate asked finally, having recovered from her initial shock.

"October first."

"That's only a few weeks away." Kate exclaimed.

"What can I say?" Fallon shrugged his shoulders. "I only received the official notification just yesterday."

"What's going to happen to our work? What's going to happen to us?"

"Some will be moved to the War Department and some will be transferred to State."

Kate noted that Fallon had not mentioned about her situation.

"What...what about me Fallon?"

Fallon drew on his cigarette slowly. Exhaling a moment later he placed the cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. Kate saw the look on the man's face and she knew immediately that he had more bad news to impart.

"I'm not going to either department, am I?" She said.

"Beckett, how long have you been in Europe?" Fallon asked.

"A little over five years." Kate replied. "What's that..."

"Don't you think that you've done your bit?" Fallon interjected. "You've been serving since before we entered the war. Hell, your ASRS score is over 114 points. You have more than enough points to go home."

ASRS was short for Advance Service Record Score, a point system that had been devised by Washington in an effort to assist in the rapid demobilisation of the troops serving overseas. Those troops with 85 points or more earned a ticket Stateside. It meant that those military personnel who had been in uniform and been serving overseas the longest had the highest points and were the first cabs off the rank to go home.

"What if I don't want to go home?"

Fallon was more than a little surprised at her response. There were few people he had come across that wanted to stay in this godforsaken country. Just about everyone he knew, including himself, wanted to go home as quickly as possible now that the war was over. Hiding his surprise behind a thin smile Fallon opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small buff coloured envelope. He tossed it across the desk towards Kate.

"What's that?" Kate asked, eyeing the envelope but making no move to pick it up.

"Your orders."

"I'm still working that murder case with CIB." Kate pointed out.

"The dead German hooker?"

"She was one of our informants, Fallon." Kate retorted angrily.

Fallon was startled by Kate's sharp retort. He looked at her for a moment before he reached for his cigarette and took a long draw on it.

"I'm sure CIB will manage to continue to investigate the case without your assistance, Beckett." He said slowly.

"Can't I put in for a transfer to CIB? Make the secondment permanent?" Kate suggested. "I really want to find out who killed her, Fallon."

"Any leads?"

"At the moment no." Kate said with a shake of her head unhappily.

"Too bad."

Kate regarded Fallon carefully.

"You don't seem too concerned that one of our informants was murdered." Kate ventured.

"Listen Beckett, Gretchen Mueller was a minor informant." Fallon replied. "She gave some useful information occasionally..."

"She gave us Heinrich Fromm." Kate interjected.

Fallon nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Yeah she did. But this is post war Germany, lots of people die, are dying. In case you haven't noticed we've got a food shortage here. So, I'm not going to lose any sleep over some dead German hooker who gave us info every now and then. Like I said, CIB will continue the investigation. It's not our case."

Kate shot a glare at Fallon. The major drew on his cigarette and placed the half smoked cigarette on the ashtray. He blew out a cloud of smoke and focused his gaze on Kate.

"Whether you want to or not, whether you like it or not, you're going home Beckett." Fallon announced. He nodded to the envelope. "Those are your orders, you're going home."

Kate picked up the envelope and opened it. She took out the letter it contained and unfolded it. She quickly scanned it and then looked up at Fallon.

"I'm leaving tomorrow?"

"Orders are orders." Fallon said and shrugged his shoulders as if to say there was nothing that he could do.

Kate shoved the letter back into the envelope and rose from her chair.

"Will that be all, major?" She asked crisply.

"Yeah."

Kate turned and started for the door.

"Beckett?"

Kate stopped when she reached the door and turned to look back at Fallon.

"For what it's worth, you've done well here." Fallon said. "Thank you for your service, and good luck."

Kate shot Fallon a final angry look, turned, opened the door and rushed out.

XXX

Jackson Hunt had never been one for the wearing of uniforms unless they were the requirement for a particular mission he was on. He much preferred wearing civilian clothes, whether it was the garb of a farmer from the Loire Valley or the soot covered overalls of a factory worker from the Ruhr, or even a three piece suit of a diplomat at the League of Nations in Geneva. They were part of the camouflage that he put on. Still, wearing a military uniform was sometimes a necessity.

At this moment as he rode down the paternoster elevator, a chain of compartments that moved slowly in a loop without stopping that was a feature of the IG Farben building, Hunt was dressed in the smart uniform of a US Army officer. On the epaulettes of the jacket were the single silver stars of a Brigadier General. This was no camouflage disguise to help him blend in here at USFET Headquarters, though it certainly helped. Jackson Hunt did hold the rank of Brigadier General. As a general he had the use of an office on one of the upper floors in the building. Rank had its perks.

Though the rank was authentic the name he was using today was not. Today he was Brigadier General Anderson Cross. It was one of many aliases he used from time to time. This one he had not used in a long time but he had slipped into it without any problem.

He still wore a beard but had it neatly trimmed and presentable. There were few if any senior officers let alone generals in the US Army who sported beards. Clean shaven was the norm from the Supreme Commander all the way down to the lowliest of privates. No one had remarked on his facial hair so far. Hunt did not plan to be here for too long to arouse queries about his facial appearance from senior generals.

Hunt had arrived at (USFET) Headquarters a day ago. Prior to that he had been in London finishing up preparations for his next assignment which was in Berlin. He had been ordered to fly to Germany ahead of schedule making a stop at Frankfurt-am-main. As he waited for his plane he had no idea why he had to go to Frankfurt, but figured it must be important if he had been ordered to fly there a few days ahead of schedule. He was sure that he would be enlightened as to what his assignment was by the time he landed. Just before he had stepped onto the plane taking him to Frankfurt a messenger arrived with his new orders in a sealed envelope. He had opened the envelope and read the orders once the plane was in the air.

Sudden change of orders were nothing new for Hunt. During the war there had been more than a few times when he had been preparing for one mission only to have the mission changed at the last moment. As annoying that might have been, and it was occasionally, he put up with it, there had been a war on after all.

What ever annoyance Hunt may have been feeling as he sat in the plane as it taxied for take off, it dissipated the moment he opened the sealed envelope and read his orders. It brought a smile to his face. He was being sent to Frankfurt to take care of some unfinished business.

Hunt never liked unfinished business and this sudden new assignment was unfinished business from over a year ago. He was more than happy to have the chance to complete the assignment.

Hunt stepped off the elevator on the second floor and started down the corridor towards his destination, Major Mark Fallon's office. He had gone only a couple of yards when he saw the door to Major Fallon's office swing open and a young woman come flying out of the office.

Hunt stopped dead in his tracks and watched as the woman stormed down the corridor away from him. Studying the departing figure a smile broke through his bearded face when he recognised the woman. It had been fifteen months since he last seen Kate Beckett.

After the Normandy landings Hunt had returned to London. Whilst there he had made it a point of finding out who that young woman he had rescued from the German patrol was. He had been more than pleased to learn that it had been La Tigresse. He also learned her real name, Kate Beckett.

Off and on he had been keeping a quiet eye on Beckett and he had to admit that he was impressed with the young OSS agent. Given the right training Hunt had no doubt that she could become one of the great agents.

When Beckett had disappeared down the stairs Hunt resumed walking and reached Fallon's office. He found the major leaning back in his chair smoking a new cigarette. A frown creasing his face as he stared into the distance.

"Was that Kate Beckett I just saw flying out of here, major?"

Fallon cast a glance in the direction of his doorway and was startled to see Hunt standing there. Fallon suddenly became animated. He crushed the unfinished cigarette in the ashtray and jumped to his feet.

"General Cross, sir." Fallon said as he came to attention.

Fallon did not know much about General Cross and he had tried to find out about this general who had appeared out of the blue only to have his attempts rebuffed at every turn. All he knew about the man was that he was some kind of spook who was only answerable to Washington. Fallon's orders had been signed by the head of OSS, William Donovan himself, basically telling Fallon to give the man any and every assistance Hunt might request.

"So, was that Kate Beckett?" Hunt repeated.

"Yes sir, that was agent Beckett."

Hunt nodded his head slowly and entered the office. He sat down in the chair that Kate had recently vacated.

"Why was she so steamed up?" Hunt asked as he motioned to Fallon to resume his seat.

Fallon slowly sank down in his chair. He let out a sigh and then shrugged his shoulders.

"I just told her that she was going home, sir."

"I gather she wasn't happy?"

"No, sir."

Hunt nodded his head again.

"You couldn't have seen your way to trying to keep her on?"

"I tried my damnest to keep her on, in any kind of capacity, sir, from the moment I got word." Major Fallon replied. "But they're shutting down OSS at the end of the month. It's already been decided who goes where after that, and who is retired from the service."

Hunt had received word several months ago that the Office of Strategic Services was going to be shut down. When he had first heard he had thought the plan was a stupid idea and over time his original opinion had not changed. He found it very hard to believe that the people back in Washington were blind to the danger that was growing in the East. The OSS was still needed, it was a ready made organisation that was capable of dealing with the danger that Moscow posed to the world.

"And she's being retired?" Hunt said.

"Yeah."

"Damn stupid move." Hunt grunted.

"You're telling me, sir." Fallon said heatedly. "She's one of our best agents. Believe me, I tried damn hard but the decision was made at a level far above my pay grade sir."

"Who made it?"

"I don't know but my orders came directly from Washington, General and they were very specific."

Hunt frowned. If he had the time he would have investigated this matter, and try and reverse it. Falling that he might have suggested to his own superiors of the value of having an agent like Beckett working for them. He might still do that.

Hunt shook off that thought and turned to the reason he had come down to see Fallon.

"You have in custody a Sturmbannfuhrer Heinrich Fromm, is that right?"

"Yes, sir, that's correct." Fallon replied. "He was arrested in a raid last night."

"Is he being brought here?"

"He's already in the stockade, sir."

Hunt nodded his head, pleased at that news. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. He leaned forward holding out the envelope to Fallon.

"What's this, sir?" Fallon asked as he accepted the envelope and glanced at it.

"Those are orders for you to hand over Heinrich Fromm into my custody immediately."

Fallon was stunned by why he heard. He quickly tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter containing the orders. He quickly read the orders. Surprise turned to disbelief at what he read. He looked up from the letter.

"May I inquire what your interest is in Fromm, sir?"

"You may not, Major." Hunt replied curtly and rose to his feet.

"But general..."

"No buts, Major. You have your orders. I'm going to the stockade to see the prisoner." Hunt said in a firm voice. "Arrangements are being made for his transfer."

Fallon stared dumfounded at the depart figure of General Hunt. With a shake of the head he reached for the telephone to call the warden of the stockade.

XXX

Kate entered the CIB offices and walked immediately towards her desk. She nodded her head in response to a greeting from Hauptmann. Reaching her desk she sank down in her chair and looked at the stack of files that someone had left on her desk. She made no move to reach for them.

She was still trying to come to terms with the orders that she had been given by Major Fallon. She had been away from the United States for six years. She would have been lying if she said she was not a little excited at the prospect of returning home. Yet overall she remained angry she was being forced to leave. She hated to leave in the middle of an important investigation. It did not matter that she was only on temporary secondment to CIB.

"You okay, kid?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Kate looked up to find Royce standing by her desk. Quickly she recovered and narrowed her eyes at him.

"That's Lieutenant, Sergeant Royce." she reminded him.

A small grin appeared briefly on Royce's lips.

"I asked if you're okay, Lieutenant?"

"No, I'm not." Kate replied, honestly.

Royce nodded his head as he looked down at Kate. He saw the crease in her forehead.

"My office." He said simply, motioning with his head in the direction of his office.

Kate rose and followed Royce into his office. She came to a stop in front of the desk. Royce closed the door and walked around the desk and made himself comfortable in his chair. Kate noticed the packing boxes that were sitting beside his desk. She also noticed a couple of stacks of files that were sitting on his desk.

Royce pointed to his empty chair but Kate declined with a shake of her head.

"Deiter Hoffman was picked up in a raid in Bad Homburg." Kate informed Royce. "CIB can have him after OSS have finished with him."

"Good to hear."

"Also, there are no Ranger or paratroop units based in the immediate Frankfurt area." Kate reported having remembered that she had not briefed Royce on her inquiries before she had left earlier.

"Okay."

"I've got some MPs checking any Rangers or Paratroopers who might have spent leave here in the past seventy-two hours, but that's going to take a couple of days at least before they report back."

Royce studied Kate and saw her biting on her low lips nervously as she looked about the office taking in the packing boxes.

"So, what's up, kid?" Royce asked, drawing her attention.

Kate turned to look at Royce. "I'm being shipped home."

"You got your points, eh?" Royce grinned.

Kate nodded her head.

"Good for you." Royce said. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

Royce's face twitched a little in surprise at that piece of news.

"But I don't want to go just yet." Kate added.

"Well orders are orders, kid. You know that."

Kate pointed to the packing boxes sitting on the floor.

"What are those, Royce?"

"I'm packing up." Royce informed her.

Kate looked at the sergeant with a quizzical expression.

"You're packing up?"

"Yeah, kid." Royce sighed. "Just like you, I received orders. I'm being transferred to the CIB office in Berlin."

Kate was shocked at what Royce just said.

"You're being transferred?" She said.

"Yeah, I have to report to Berlin tomorrow."

"Wow."

"Not the words I used when I received the orders." Royce chuckled.

"You seem okay with it."

"Believe me kid, I'm anything but okay with it." Royce growled.

"But what about the case?"

"Someone else will take over." Royce shrugged his shoulders.

"Who?"

Royce rose from his chair and walked around his desk.

"It's not your concern, nor mine."

Kate nodded her head reluctantly. Royce was right about that. It was not their concern anymore. Yet that did not sit well with her. She slowly started to make her way to the door.

"Hand over your files and case notes to Hauptmann, then you can head back to your quarters and pack up. You're going home."

Kate forced a smile to her face. On reaching the door Kate paused with her hand on the door knob and stared off into space as if she was pondering on something. Slowly she turned to look back at Royce. The smile had gone from her face.

"Don't you think it's a little odd that both you and I are being transferred out of here just when we started really getting into the case?" Kate questioned.

"What are you saying, kid?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what I'm saying, it just seems a little strange you received transfer orders and I got orders sending me home at the same time."

"That's the army for you, kid." Royce suggested. "Or it's just a coincidence."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Kate opened the door and walked out of the office with Royce following her. Ten minutes later she had left CIB after saying her goodbyes to the small investigation team.

XXX

Jackson Hunt walked steadily down the stone steps that led down to the cells located in the basement of the Police Headquarters. The dark granite walls lent an air of foreboding and menace to those prisoners who had been hauled down here. Even in the dim light of the electric bulbs that were strung on the walls he could see dark rust coloured splotches on the walls and on the steps which had not been cleaned up properly. He doubted that under the previous owners there would have been too many prisoners who ever saw the light of day again.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs Hunt saw a corridor directly in front of him where twelve cells were located, six on each side. Two white helmeted MPs armed with long batons and side arms walked up and down the corridor pausing to peer through the peep holes to check on the prisoner inside each cell.

Turning to his right there was a small wooden desk which was manned by a MP sergeant. On seeing Hunt standing there the MP jumped to his feet and snapped a smart salute.

"Yes, general?"

Hunt returned the salute."

"I'd like to see Prisoner Fromm." Hunt announced.

The MP snatched up a clipboard and looked down the list of names on the sheet. He looked up a moment later.

"The prisoner is in cell six, sir." The MP replied.

Hunt nodded his head slowly. He was about to make his way down to the cell.

"Excuse me, General." The MP said hesitantly. "Our orders are that the prisoner is not to see anyone, sir."

Hunt allowed a small smile to peer through his beard. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a buff coloured envelope. He held it out to the MP.

"Orders have been changed, sergeant."

The MP sergeant opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper. He unfolded it quickly and read what it contained. A moment later he looked up from the letter.

"You are taking charge of the prisoner, sir?" He asked.

"That's correct." Hunt confirmed. "My people will be along shortly to take charge of him. He's being transferred to another facility."

"Yes, sir. I understand." The MP looked at the orders again before he nodded. He put the clipboard down and then the new orders. He then picked up another clipboard and passed it over to Hunt.

"Please sign in, sir."

Hunt took the clipboard and then a pen from his pocket. He quickly signed that name of Anderson Cross on the line provided. He passed the clipboard back to the sergeant. The sergeant nodded his head then looked down the length of the corridor.

"Norstrom, visitor for Prisoner Six." He shouted.

"Yes sergeant." came the reply from one of the pacing guards.

"He's all yours, General." The MP sergeant said looking at Hunt.

Hunt nodded his thanks and set off down the corridor.

Heinrich Fromm was man in his mid to late fifties with a solid build. He looked to be well fed unlike a vast number of his compatriots. His grey hair which was once kept closely cropped had been allowed to grow a little in an effort to disguise his military career. The expensive double breasted suit he was wearing had seen better days and now looked a little tatty and torn. The white shirt he wore was minus a tie and his shoes were missing their laces. Both articles had been taken from him just in case the prisoner had ideas of committing suicide. The two MPs checking in on the prisoners through the peep holes were also there to prevent attempts at suicide.

"You've been a naughty boy, Heinrich." Hunt said, once the cell door had been closed behind him.

"Naughty?" Fromm questioned. Slowly he hauled himself into a sitting position on his bed.

"You got caught."

"Ach." Fromm nodded his head slowly and waved a dismissive hand.

Hunt stood with his back to the door. He issued instructions to both guards that they were to give him privacy, no looking through the peep holes and by standing in front of the door it made sure that if curiosity got the better of the guards they would see nothing.

"What is going to happen to me, General?" Fromm asked.

"They're thinking of sending you to Nuremberg."

The prisoner looked up at Hunt with alarm in his face. There had been much talk about the International Military Tribunal that was being set up at Nuremberg that was going to try the leaders of the fallen Nazi regime for war crimes.

"You have to get me out of here." Fromm hissed angrily.

"And I will." Hunt replied calmly.

The former Nazi regarded the other man with a look of suspicion.

"When?"

"Soon." Hunt assured him.

Hunt slowly unfolded his arms and then eased himself off the door. He moved across the small cell to sit down on the edge of the cot.

"You don't want me sent to Nuremberg, General."

A small smile appeared on Hunt's face. He was amused that the man sitting beside him was resorting to threats. Little did Fromm know that these threats would turn out to be empty when all was said and done.

"You wont be going to Nuremberg, Heinrich." Hunt said. "But it takes time."

"Do you want me to open my mouth General?" Fromm retorted. "I know things. I have done things for you. Things that your government would prefer not to see the light of day."

Hunt glanced at Fromm for a couple of moments gauging whether he would carry out the threat. Fromm looked determined. Hunt had no doubt that if the opportunity presented itself from would sing like a canary.

"You would not be here Heinrich if you had followed orders."

Hunt's people had gone to great lengths to set up an escape route for Fromm that would have seen him set up in a new life in a South American country. But Fromm had missed the first rendezvous and then the second one a week later. Then a few days ago he had chosen to attend a secret meeting in Bad Homburg where he had been rounded up in a raid by American authorities and now here he sat in a prison cell. It had been stupid not to mention arrogant on the man's part in attending a meeting of fugitive Nazis.

"You have to get me out, General." Fromm repeated, ignoring Hunt's last remark.

"And as I said, I will."

Hunt reached behind him into the back pocket of his trousers and produced a silver hip flask. He held it out to Fromm.

"How about a drink, Heinrich? You look like you could use one." Hunt suggested.

Fromm looked at the proffered hip flask for a moment debating whether to take a drink or not. Suddenly he reached out and snatched the flask from out of Hunt's hand.

Hunt watched as Fromm opened the flask and put it to his mouth. He tilted back his head and took a large sip.

"Schnapps?" Fromm remarked.

"I thought you might prefer it to anything else."

Fromm took another swig from the flask before he passed the flask back to Hunt. The General capped the flask and then returned it to his back pocket. He rose to his feet and looked down at Fromm.

"A couple of my men will be here in an hour to have you transferred to more suitable quarters."

Fromm's face brightened on hearing that news.

"So, until then sit tight."

"Yes, General."

"I said I would get you out, and I will."

Fromm nodded his head.

Jackson Hunt wore a satisfied smile on his face as he climbed up the stairs back up to the surface. He had never liked Heinrich Fromm from the beginning but in the world that Jackson Hunt lived and worked in, likeability of someone was not a very high priority. Usefulness was. Fromm had been turned before the war when he had been caught in a very compromising position one night in a Geneva hotel with a young man. But Fromm had outlived his usefulness some time ago. With most agents who had reached their use-by date, they were quietly retired with the grateful thanks of their superiors. Fromm was too dangerous to retire in the usual way. He had done a lot of things that the Government would not made public.

Fromm had sealed his own fate when in early 1944 on a trip to Lisbon he had tried to make contact contact with operatives from Moscow Centre. He was playing both sides against each other in the hope of getting the best deal for when the Nazi regime eventually fell to the Allies. Hunts orders were to retire Fromm in a more permanent way. Hunt had tried to do it on D-Day but circumstances had prevented him on that day. Hunt never failed when given a second chance.

XXX

Kate finished packing the last of her files and placed the lid on the box and left the box sitting in the middle of what used to be her desk. On leaving CIB she had returned to the OSS office suite to clear this desk. The handful of files with the highest security clearance she had already returned to the registry where they would were secured under lock and key.

The remaining files she had placed in the box which be collected by someone later on. Taking a step back from the desk Kate tucked a stray strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear. She took a moment to look around the now empty office suite. All six desks were now empty their occupants having packed up for the day and headed out.

Fallon had left his office about half an hour ago. He had been surprised to see her back in the office after she had stormed out but he stopped by her desk and suggested they go to the Officer's Club to have a couple of drinks to wish her a bon voyage. Kate was still too angry at the man to accept his offer of drinks, she had politely declined the offer explaining that she still had to go back to her quarters to finish her packing.

Looking at the desk Kate studied the few personal items that she had removed from the desk drawers and had placed on top of the desk.

Her brow creased into a small frown at the sight of so few personal items she had collected over the past few months she had been stationed in Frankfurt. There were a couple of small carved ivory elephants that she had found in a little shop she had discovered by accident one day when she had a day off from work. The moment she had spotted them she had fallen in love with them and had bought them, much to the pleasure of the shop owner. The other items on the desk beside the elephants was a hair brush, a comb, a couple of sticks of lipstick and a powder compact.

Looking at the items Kate realised that over the past six years she had not collected a great many things. When she had been sent to France she had not brought with her any personal item. Her SOE handlers were very insistent on that point, explaining that a personal item might betray her to the Germans. In France she had not bothered with personal items. She did have those drawings that Daniel had sketched of her. She had disobeyed her handlers and had brought them with her to France not able to part with them. Having those drawings was dangerous but she did not care. They were the only things she had of Daniel. It had been Martine du Mont who on seeing them had suggested they be put up on the wall in the living room. Pierre had fashioned frames for them. Those drawings were long gone now.

What few possessions she had were put in storage in England. She made a mental note to herself that when stopped over in London to go and collect the items that were in storage. Back in her quarters there were not that many things she would take with her just her clothes, some books and a few odds and ends.

Kate gathered up her personal items from the desk and deposited them into handbag and closed it.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

Kate looked around and saw a worried looking corporal approaching.

"What is it, corporal?"

"I'm looking for Major Fallon, ma'am." The man said.

"He's gone for the day, corporal." Kate replied.

"Do you know where he's gone, ma'am? It's urgent I find him."

Kate checked her watch and saw that it was just after seven-thirty.

"You could try the Officer's Club, next door." Kate suggested.

"Thank you lieutenant, I appreciate it."

The corporal saluted and started to turn away.

"What's the problem, corporal?" Kate called out.

"Pardon, ma'am?"

"Why the urgency to find major Fallon?"

"Oh, um one of the prisoners that were arrested this morning has been found dead in their cell, lieutenant."

"Who?" Kate demanded.

"Heinrich Fromm."

Kate stared back at the corporal. She felt like she just had been punched in the guts.

XXXXX

_**Your thoughts would be appreciated. Drop me a line and let me know what you think.**_

_**Con**_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Berlin

Tuesday 4th September 1945

Sergeant First Class Javier Esposito walked slowly along the street. As he walked he cast looks about him like any tourist to a new city. He was looking at the bombed out buildings that lined both sides of the street. He had read about and seen some of the newsreels of the bombing campaign that the German capital had been subjected to by the US Army Air Force and RAF Bomber Command but he had no idea the kind of devastation that had been inflicted until he had arrived here in Berlin and had seen it for himself. It was a sight that he doubted he would ever get used to.

He had been in Berlin for two days now but all he could think of was going home. The thing was, he had earned enough points to go home. Yet instead of being on a ship sailing across the Atlantic heading for home, he had been sent to Berlin. A little over a week ago he had been discharged from the rehabilitation hospital where he had spent the past nine months recovering from wounds he had received in one of the biggest battles of the war end of the last year.

On returning to his unit he had found most of his comrades had already been shipped out to a transit camp near the French Atlantic coast ready to be sent home. Esposito was all ready to start packing his gear to join his comrades when his company CO informed him that he was being sent to Berlin as part of a small contingent of Army Rangers to participate in the upcoming Victory Parade. Only the army would send a recently recovered invalid who had earned enough points to go home to a victory parade instead.

Esposito had been less than pleased to be sent to Berlin. He was the only member of his Ranger company sent to Berlin. The other members of the contingent were from other Ranger units. He hardly knew any of the other members of the contingent. One or two he had seen around but he did not know them. Two days in Berlin and his anger and annoyance at being in Berlin had not faded.

It was getting late in the afternoon and Esposito was currently heading to a bar to meet up with a couple of his Ranger comrades to have a few drinks. He had been told that the bar was on this street but so far having walked almost half the length of the street all he had found were bombed out buildings.

Reaching an intersection Esposito stopped and started to look about him. His patience was rapidly running out. He had never been the most patient of men. A part of him was starting to suspect that these comrades of his had sent him on a wild goose chase. No bar existed on this street. He had reached the point where he was ready to turn around and head back to his billet.

"You look lost soldier."

Esposito spun around and found a tall paratroop Lieutenant Colonel approaching him. Esposito came to attention and automatically snapped off a salute. He immediately winced regretting the action. His shoulder, though mended, still gave him pain if he raised his right arm too quickly. Before he had been discharged from hospital the doctors warned him that he would need to undergo further rehabilitation once he got home.

"As you were, Sergeant." The Colonel said, returning the salute. "You were wounded?"

"Yes, sir."

The colonel nodded his head in understanding.

"Here for the Victory Parade are you?"

"Yes, sir." Esposito unable to hide the frown that formed on his face.

The Victory Parade was being held this coming Friday.

The Colonel smiled and held out his hand to Esposito.

"I'm Colonel Rick Castle, 82nd Airborne." Castle announced.

"Sergeant First Class Esposito, Javier. 2nd Rangers, Colonel." Esposito shook the Colonel's hand.

"Welcome to Berlin, Sergeant."

"Thank you sir."

Esposito was a little disconcerted. He was not used to a friendly Colonel. It was his experience in the army that Colonels were hard driving, unsmiling, fire and brimstone cussing, hard asses.

"So, where you heading, Sergeant Esposito?" Castle asked.

"I'm trying to find a place called the The Wolfhound."

"The Wolfhound?" Castle said with some surprise.

"Yeah, do you know it, sir?"

"You're in luck, Sergeant. That's where I'm heading." Castle announced. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink, Sergeant."

Esposito first response was to decline the offer but he quickly realised they were going to the same place and it was not every day that a senior officer offered to buy him a drink. He quickly caught up to the Colonel.

XXX

Esposito felt a little uncomfortable as he sat at the small wooden table waiting for the Colonel to return with the beers. As he waited he had looked around the place hoping to spot any of his Ranger comrades but there was no sign of those guys. He figured that they either might have gotten lost or had found another bar to go to, or they had no intention of coming to this tavern in the first place. Whatever the case may be he was not happy with his comrades. He was sitting in a room full of paratroopers.

The tavern was of moderate size with exposed wooden beams in the ceiling and cracked plaster on the walls. The building might have been missed by falling bombs but there had been many that had fallen close by that the shocks of the explosions had caused the plaster to crack and fall off in places. A couple of the windows had been blown out and now were boarded up and the others had cracks running through them. There were tables of various shapes and sizes in the room and all of them were full of paratroopers. A small group of soldiers were standing by the unlit fireplace talking and using the mantle piece as a place to rest their beers.

The noise level had dropped noticeably the moment he and the Colonel had walked into the place. Esposito had noticed that it was filled with non-coms and privates. There was no sign of any officer except for the Colonel. Several soldiers had cast disapproving looks in Esposito's direction, as if they were blaming him for bringing an officer, and a high ranking one at that, to this place. It was either that or the fact he was a non paratrooper. He was not sure but suspected that it might have been the latter. In that moment Esposito knew how Daniel felt when he had walked into the lion's den.

Paratroopers and Rangers had an ongoing rivalry that was common amongst elite fighting units. Each thought they were the best of the best. And each could boast of a fighting record that was second to none.

Castle returned to the table carrying with him two large beer steins which he placed on the table. Esposito's eyes widened with surprise at the sight of the steins.

"Don't worry, Sergeant. I'm reliably informed the beer's watered down." Castle said as he pushed a stein across the table to Esposito."But it's drinkable."

"Thanks, sir."

Castle picked up his stein and raised it up as he looked over to the Sergeant.

"Here's to peace." Castle toasted.

"To peace." Esposito replied, nodding his head.

Esposito lifted the stein and slowly brought it towards his mouth. He winced at the jab of pain that shot through his shoulder. With determination he brought the stein to his lips and took a big sip of the beer. For a moment the pain in his shoulder was forgotten as he nodded his approval at the beer. It may have been watered down but it certainly tasted better than anything he had in a long time. It was far better than the Millers and Coors he had been drinking lately.

"Pretty good stuff." Esposito remarked as he quickly set the stein down on the table.

"The Germans might have been the enemy but you got to hand it to them, they sure know how to make a good beer." Castle replied with a grin.

Esposito cast another look around him and noticed that most of the soldiers who had taken some interest in his arrival had forgotten about him and the Colonel, and had gone back to their own beers. The noise level had started to rise again.

"Is this your regular drinking spot, sir?" Esposito asked.

"I come here from time to time." Castle replied. "The beer here is pretty good. And I needed to get away from the office or a little while."

Esposito nodded his head and reached for his stein and lifted it up. He winced with pain. He set the stein down quickly and with his free hand started to rub at his shoulder.

"Where did you get wounded, Sergeant?" Castle inquired as looked intently across the table.

"Hurtgen Forest, last December, sir."

"Before the Bulge?"

Esposito nodded his head as he continued to massage his shoulder. The Battle of Hurtgen Forest had been the US Army's longest land battle against the Germans during the war. The battle came to an end on 16th December, the same day the Germans launched their final desperate bid to push the allies back in a battle that came to be known as the Battle of The Bulge.

"I was there too." Castle told him. "Nasty business it was, wasn't it?"

"You could say that again, sir." Esposito agreed.

"So, how did you get wounded?"

"A grenade went off close by, I caught a lot of shrapnel." Esposito informed him.

"I know a little how it feels." Castle grinned. "I caught a couple of pieces when I jumped into Normandy on D-Day."

Esposito nodded his head slowly. He had been on the deck of the warship that was taking him and his battalion to the landing beaches early on D-Day morning. It had been cramped below decks and he needed to get some fresh air. He had heard and then saw the massive armada of transport aircraft filling the night sky as they flew towards the Normandy coast. It was in that moment Esposito was more than happy to be wading through the water under enemy fire rather than jumping out of a plane. At least he had his weapon with him and he could fire back. From what he had heard, the paratroops could not get to their weapons until they had hit the ground.

Esposito reached for his beer stein and ignoring the pain he lifted it up to his mouth and took a big sip.

"You up for all the saluting you going to be doing during the victory parade, Sergeant?" Castle inquired as he studied Esposito carefully.

"I guess I'll have to be, sir." Esposito replied, and shrugged his shoulders as if to say: _'what can I do?'_

Castle shook his head slowly. Only the army would think to send a recovering soldier to a parade where he would forced to use his wounded arm to salute. An idea suddenly came to him.

"Sergeant, given the choice, what would you prefer to be doing?" Castle asked suddenly.

Esposito shot the Colonel a quizzical look.

"Given the choice, would you prefer to be marching in a victory parade, saluting the brass, and making your shoulder worse or to be on your way home?"

"Home." Esposito said succinctly.

"What would you say if I could swing that for you, Sergeant?"

He stared at the Colonel with narrowed eyes. "You some kind of Fairy God Colonel or something, sir?"

"Fair God Lieutenant Colonel." Castle corrected him with a grin on his lips.

"If you could swing that, sir, I'd be forever grateful." Esposito said.

Esposito had no qualms about using the offices of his new found friend to get himself sent home.

"What part of New York City you from Sergeant?" Castle asked.

"Brooklyn, sir."

"I'm from Manhattan myself."

"We New York boys have to stick together, eh?" Esposito chuckled.

"Indeed, Sergeant." Castle grinned back.

Castle picked up his stein and took a big sip of his beer. Esposito despite wincing again took a sip of his own beer. Setting his stein down Castle looked across the table and gave Sergeant Esposito a smile.

"Well, Sergeant Esposito today is indeed your lucky day."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"As it happens I am part of the organising committee for this Victory Parade we're holding here. I can get you bumped off the parade on a medical and heading home before you know it, if you want."

"If I want?" Esposito exclaimed. "Cause I want."

"Good to hear, Sergeant." Castle smiled. "Now if you go and get another round, and then we'll discuss how we're going to get you home."

They had not finished the beer they had at the table but that did not stop Esposito jumping to his feet and making his way to the bar. If his ticket home was the cost of a beer he was more than happy to pay it. He would be happy to pay for the Colonel's beer all night long if that's what it took.

XXX

The evening shadows were steadily lengthening now that the sun had gone down for the day. The chill in the air returned now that the warmth of the sun had gone. The evenings would grow colder and colder from now on. He had a feeling that it would be another bad winter. Maybe not as bad as the one last year but it would be bad enough. It would be tough on the inhabitants of Berlin. He did not envy them and what they faced in the coming months.

The bombed out buildings looked eerie and forbidding in the gathering darkness. Their skeletal formations looking more sinister now than in the daylight hours. In the darkness these buildings were the perfect hiding spot for criminal gangs to launch attacks on unsuspecting passers by.

Jackson Hunt kept a cautious eye on the buildings he passed. His left hand was shoved into the pocket of the thick coat he was wearing, curled around the handle of a Colt .45 automatic and his finger rested on the trigger guard. He did not think he would need it but he was not one to take unnecessary chances while walking through the streets of Berlin in the evening. That was just asking for trouble.

Tonight he was not dressed in the uniform of a Brigadier General in the US Army. Tonight Hunt was dressed as a German civilian. His clothes were covered in dust as if he had spent the entire day clearing the rubble from buildings or streets. It was just the right kind of disguise to be using whilst walking through the near empty streets here in Tempelhof.

Those civilians out on the street paid him little heed as they hurried to get home before curfew. He gave them a cursory look as he passed them. Curfew was being strictly enforced for the time being.

Hunt heard the deep roar of aircraft engines as they powered up. Tempelhof airfield was less than a mile away from where he was walking. A minute later he looked up to see the Army Air Force Dakota transport plane as it passed over climbing into the night sky. The street Hunt was on was directly under the flight path for Tempelhof airfield. It must have been annoying for those people living under the flight path to have aircraft landing and taking off at all hours of the day or night. He watched the aircraft as it slowly banked away on a new course for a couple of moments before he resumed walking.

Once the aircraft had faded away Hunt picked up the sound of a Jeep travelling at speed down the street. He looked over his shoulder and watched the vehicle as it approached.

The four occupants in the open Jeep were military police, a representative from each of the Occupying Powers. At the end of the war Berlin like the rest of Germany had been carved up into four sectors, a sector each for the victorious allies. A four power Allied Control Council had been set up to oversee the administration of Berlin and the military police patrols was the most visible display of that control to the defeated Germans.

The four MPs in the Jeep looked stiff and tight lipped. They barely gave him a second look as they drove by. Hunt figured they must have been in a hurry to get back to camp now that their patrol was over for the evening. He watched as the Jeep as it travelled down the street disappearing around a corner with a screech of tyres.

For a moment Hunt had thought the MPs would stop and question him. That's what he would have done if he had been in the Jeep, no matter if it had been the start of the patrol or the end of it. Thankfully he was not in the Jeep.

If they had stopped to question him he was confident enough to be able to talk himself out of the situation. He had done it countless times before that it was almost second nature to him. If he could not talk himself out of the situation he had papers in his pocket that would have the MPs letting him go with no further questions asked. He would have hated having to show the papers but some times these thing happened. Thankfully he did not need to do either of those things because the MPs were more interested in getting back to camp.

Hunt pulled down the peek of his cap a little lower and then cast a long look over his shoulder before he resumed walking again. The skeletal buildings gave way to partly damaged buildings whose lower floors were habitable and occupied. He could see the glow of oil and kerosene lamps spilling out from covered windows. The electricity had been knocked during the war and was only slowly being restored. It did not look like this part of Tempelhof would be getting electricity any time soon.

Hunt reached the intersection and halted. Once more he cast a look behind him to make sure that no one had been following him. He had not heard anyone and he could not spot anyone brave enough to follow him stealthily. It did not mean that he had not been followed. There were plenty of places to hide behind all along the street. And there were plenty of people who were artists when it came to following people without being seen.

Turning to his right he walked up the steps of the four storey apartment building that sat on the corner. Reaching the front door he paused and turned around. He cast his gaze across the street to the building directly opposite. His eyes travelled up to the second floor. An amused smile reached his lips when he saw the curtains flutter. Someone had been watching him but had quickly disappeared when they saw him turning to look at the building.

Hunt turned back and faced the door. With his right hand he reached out and knocked several times. Almost immediately the door was opened by a tall Slavic looking man dressed in green army fatigues favoured by the Soviet Army. There was no insignia on the uniform. The man took one look at Hunt and stepped aside to let him enter.

The man closed the door then turned to face Hunt.

"He's in the kitchen. Down the hallway, second door on the right." The man announced in heavily accented English."

"Spasibo." Hunt responded in perfect Russian.

Hunt made his way through the dark hallway until he reached the door that led into the kitchen. The door was open and he paused to peer in.

The kitchen was poorly lit by a pair of kerosene lamps but they provided enough illumination to reveal the short solidly built balding man who was was seated at the small kitchen table. He was dressed in faded army fatigues just like the guard who had opened the front door. An old army great coat had been thrown carelessly over a chair. The man's ruddy face was creased with many lines that looked like a road map to his life. A half finished cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. The man looked over to the door to find Hunt standing in the doorway. He took the cigarette from his mouth and then broke into a smile.

"Jackson, my old friend." He called out in perfect English that had only the merest suggestion of an accent.

"Sergei Komorov." Hunt replied.

Hunt had encountered Sergei many times over the years. The last time he had encountered Sergei had been in a nightclub in Istanbul a little over two years ago.

"Come in. Take a seat." Sergei said waving Hunt to a chair.

Hunt grinned as he stepped into the kitchen and walked to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down. He continued to grin as he looked across the table to the other man. He was both surprised and not surprised to see it was Sergei who had come to this meeting. He had been expecting a senior officer. It was his understanding that Sergei hardly ventured out of the Soviet Sector unless it was for formal meetings with his counterparts on the Allied Control Commission.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out four packets of Camel unfiltered cigarettes. The packets he placed in the middle of the table and pushed them a little towards Sergei. He had brought the cigarettes just in case he was meeting Sergei. The other man's face lit up with delight at the sight of the American cigarettes.

"A little present for you, Sergei." Hunt said. "I know how much you like them."

"You know me too well, my friend." Sergei chuckled. He crushed the cigarette in his hand in the ashtray by his right elbow. Then he reached for one of the packets that Hunt had brought, opened it and tapped out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth. He then quickly lit it up. He drew heavily on it and then blew out a long slow cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

"Thank you, Jackson."

"No problem."

Hunt watched as Sergei took another puff on his cigarette and blew out another cloud of smoke. He left the cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth as he reached for the bottle of vodka that was sitting on the table. He filled the two shot glasses that had been sitting next to the bottle, filling them to the brim. He set the bottle down then picked up a glass holding it out to Hunt.

Hunt accepted the glass with a nod of his head and then watched as Sergei picked up his own glass. He took out his cigarette and place it on the ashtray and then raised it in the air.

"To your health, my friend." Sergei announced.

"Vashe zdorov'ye, tavorishch." Hunt replied.

Hunt threw down his drink in one shot. He nodded his head as the fiery liquid worked its way down his throat. He nodded his head in approval. This was good quality vodka. Sergei too had downed his own drink just as quickly.

"Nothing but the best for my friend." Sergei chuckled as he refilled both glasses.

Hunt nodded his head.

"Hamiyet sends her regards, by the way." Sergei grinned.

Hunt frowned as he tried to place the name. It took him a moment before comprehension spread across his face. Hamiyet was a young dark haired belly dancer working at the nightclub. She had taken a shine to Hunt. The smile she had bestowed on him as she danced before their table held the promise of a night of unbridled delights. When his business with Sergei had been concluded Hunt had taken his leave leaving Sergei with the bill and the belly dancer.

"She was young enough to be your granddaughter." Hunt said, a smile appearing on his lips.

"You would be amazed at what she could do. What she did!"

Hunt laughed and nodded his head. "My loss, your gain."

"Indeed." Sergei chuckled.

"You're looking well, Sergei." Hunt said.

"I put it down to good living and plenty of vodka." Sergei laughed.

"And the occasional belly dancer." Hunt added.

The Russian laughed and then threw down another shot of vodka. He looked over to Hunt waiting for him to do the same.

Hunt picked up his glass and knocked back the vodka. He knew better than to try and match Sergei drink for drink. He had learned that lesson the hard way in Madrid back in 1936, during the Civil War that had broken out. The man was a prodigious drinker like most of his countrymen. A couple of drinks would not hurt though, he thought to himself.

Sergei refilled the empty glasses once more.

"How was Frankfurt?" Sergei inquired.

"It was fine." Hunt replied.

Hunt showed little surprised to find that Sergei knew about his short visit to Frankfurt. He would have been far more surprised if the man had not known about it.

Sergei Komorov might have had the demeanor of a kindly and jovial looking grandfather who enjoyed his vodka perhaps a little too much and had an eye for your women, yet those who knew him, knew that he was anything but a jovial character. He was as cold and ruthless as they come.

Sergei had been in the vanguard of the Bolshevik Revolution, joining the dreaded Cheka, the forerunner of the NKVD in 1918. In his rise to the top of his profession he had managed to survive the periodical purges that took place. He had been able to survive because of his ruthlessness and rat-like cunning where many of his colleagues had not.

His official title was Deputy Political Commissar to the Soviet Liberation Army in Germany but that was just a cover for his real job. His real job was that of the senior officer of the NKVD in Germany.

"I was sorry to hear about Heinrich Fromm." Sergei said with a knowing look on his face.

"No great loss." Hunt replied and then shrugged.

"Poisoning, wasn't it?" Sergei probed.

"Well, whatever it was, he had outlived his usefulness."

"For you maybe."

Hunt smiled to himself. He had just received confirmation that the Russians had been interested in Heinrich Fromm. Who had made the first move was neither here or there. He was a little intrigued because it was rare for Sergei to give away this kind of information.

"For everyone." Hunt stated.

Sergei regarded Hunt across the table with an amused expression on his face. Suddenly he waved a dismissive hand.

"Ah, you might be right, old friend." Sergei conceded. "His demise saved us all the cost of a lengthy war crimes trial."

Hunt agreed with a nod of his head. The Allies were already preparing the military tribunals that would try the most senior Nazi leaders for war crimes. The trials were going to be held in the Palace of Justice in Nuremberg some time near the end of the year. And it was not just the most senior Nazi leaders who were going to face justice, there were hundreds of others who would eventually stand before the military tribunals to answer for their crimes.

Sergei picked up his glass and brought it to his mouth and threw the vodka down his throat in one fluid motion. He let out an appreciative sigh as he set the glass down on the table and reached for the bottle to refill the glass.

Hunt watched him carefully but made no move to pick up his own vodka.

"You're not drinking, my friend?" Sergei inquired.

"Business first, Sergei."

"Ah, you Americans, always with business first."

Hunt smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Sergei laughed in response then motioned for Hunt to continue.

"Your proposal for a prisoner exchange has been agreed to." Hunt announced.

Prisoner exchanges between the victorious Allies had been going on since before the war had officially had come to an end, and it usually involved combat soldiers or civilians. Those involved in the shadowy world of spies who had been caught could only look forward to lengthy incarceration and interrogation. The Americans and the Russians each had a handful of captured spies. Rather than have their people interrogated further by their opponents it was agreed to exchange them.

Sergei nodded his head. "Good, good."

"The specific details can be worked out by subordinates in the next couple of days." Hunt added.

"That is fine."

"The exchange has to be done soon."

"Agreed." Sergei replied. "After the Victory Parade?"

"Okay."

"Our subordinates can submit the names for exchange."

Hunt nodded his agreement.

Sergei suddenly broke into a smile. He reached across the table holding out his hand. Hunt took his offered hand and shook it sealing the agreement. Sergei then reached for his glass of vodka. He looked at the other man. Hunt grinned as he picked up his own glass.

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Jackson."

"Likewise, Sergei."

The two men touched glasses in silent toast and then threw down the vodka down their throats. Hunt set his empty glass down on the table. With the business at hand completed the meeting was at an end. He started to rise to his feet.

"A moment, Jackson." Sergei held up a hand. "There is one more matter."

Hunt looked questioningly at the other man. A moment later he slowly sat back down on the chair. He watched as Sergei picked up the vodka bottle and refilled both their glasses.

"It's a dangerous profession we chose to pursue, no?" Sergei said slowly as he set the bottle down. He leaned back in his chair making no move to pick up his vodka glass.

"If we do our job right we make enemies along the way." Sergei added.

A small smile appeared on Hunt's face. He nodded his head in agreement. Over the years he had lost count the number of people he had made enemies of because of his work.

"We have the unwritten rule that our families are sacrosanct. No matter what we may do to each other, our families are off limits."

Hunt stared at Sergei wondering where the man was going with this.

"You have a son, do you not, my friend?" Sergei said.

"A son?" Hunt replied trying to feign ignorance.

Sergei shot him a look.

"Do not be coy with me, Jackson." Sergei said. "You have a son. A fine strapping man. A successful author no less. I rather like his crime fiction novels. I understand that he is a paratroop officer with your 82nd Airborne Division."

Hunt was both surprised and not surprised Sergei knew so much about his son. It was only after he had returned to London following the Normandy landings that Hunt discovered that his son was serving in the 82nd Airborne and had participated in the jump over Normandy on D-Day. He had been surprised to learn that they had been in the same area, barely a couple of miles from each other but their paths had not crossed. Not that he would have done anything, like meeting his son. It was for his son's safety that Hunt remained in the shadows of his son's life.

"There are certain rogue elements within State Security that have, what you Americans call a 'beef'" with you, Jackson."

Hunt shrugged his shoulders, silently telling the other man that he was not telling him anything new.

"It has come to my attention that one of these rogue elements has designs on your son as a way of getting to you."

"Are you sure?"

"I am, my friend."

"Do you know who?"

Sergei shrugged. "Nothing certain, I'm afraid. But I'm sure you can figure out who it is."

Hunt suspected that Sergei knew exactly who this rogue element was but did not want to voice the name. Sergei was right though. Hunt had a small list of possibilities.

"I have issued strict orders that your son is to be left alone but I can't guarantee his safety. One or two of these rogue elements may not obey my orders." Sergei added.

"I understand."

Hunt slowly rose to his feet. He reached down and picked up his untouched glass of vodka. Bringing it up to his mouth he downed the shot quickly. Setting the glass down on the table he looked at the other man.

"Why have you told me this, Sergei?" Hunt asked.

Sergei shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

Hunt raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Let's just say I'm returning a favour." The Russian added.

Hunt frowned as he started to search his memory. What favour had he done for Sergei Komorov? It took Hunt a couple of moments but then he remembered a frozen valley near the Finland-Soviet Union border in January 1940.

The Soviet Union had invaded Finland in November 1939 following Finland's refusal to Soviet demands they cede some of their territory to the Russians. The Russians had wanted to create a buffer zone to prevent Germany using Finnish territory to invade the Soviet Union. It was something that the Soviet leaders feared. Finland had fought hard and bravely, and had managed to inflict embarrassing reverses on the invaders initially.

Hunt had been sent to Finland by his superiors on a fact finding mission and to observe. He visited the front on numerous occasions.

In January 1940 Hunt was visiting the Mannerheim Line which was serving as the front and in a particular valley at a battalion headquarters, a Soviet Infantry Lieutenant had been brought in after being captured by a platoon of Finnish soldiers after a hard fought skirmish.

The senior Finnish officers had wanted to shoot the Lieutenant as a spy. It was in retaliation for an incident a couple of days prior which the Soviet invaders had per perpetrated. They had executed a small group of Finnish soldiers who had surrendered.

Hunt remembered he had been struck by the uncanny resemblance the young Soviet officer bore to Sergei Komorov. Because of his fact finding mission Hunt had been allowed to speak to the Lieutenant. They conversed in the Lieutenant's native tongue, Russian. Hunt had found the young man a little scared about his fate but was engaging enough when he was answering questions though he remained tight lipped when it came to divulging any military secrets.

"Lieutenant Yuri Zinoviev." Hunt said aloud, as he turned to look at Sergei. "Your son?"

"My eldest." Sergei nodded his head. "He used his mother's maiden name so as not to receive preferential treatment."

Hunt gave an understanding nod of his head.

Hunt remembered that his decision to help the young man escape had been a spur of the moment thing. It took some talking but Hunt had managed to have the Lieutenant to be released from prison and into his custody. He seemed to recall he had convinced the senior Finnish officers that taking the prisoner back to Helsinki for more interrogation would be far better than just having him shot, adding that he felt that the man knew more than he was letting on. The Finns reluctantly agreed.

On the drive Hunt had managed to disable the driver of their car and then throw him out of the car, then he had given the slip to the escorting vehicle. He and the Lieutenant had gone into the nearby woods not far from where the Soviet army lines were believed to be.

At first Lieutenant Zinoviev thought that he was going to be shot trying whilst trying to escape but soon came to understand that Hunt was not going to shoot him. In actual fact he was being released.

The last image Hunt had of the Lieutenant was seeing him smiling and waving to him as he quickly slipped back towards his army's lines.

At the time Hunt had no idea whether the Lieutenant was related to Sergei or not but he had a gut feeling that he might be, if the resemblance was anything to go by. He usually trusted his gut feelings. They rarely let him down.

Yet by helping the Russian Lieutenant escape Hunt knew that his Finnish hosts would be furious. They would undoubtedly arrest him. Rather than return and be arrested, and thrown into jail, Hunt just slipped away. His fact finding mission was all but completed any way.

"How is Yuri?" Hunt inquired.

"He was badly wounded at Stalingrad." Sergei replied.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"He is slowly getting better."

"Glad to hear it."

Hunt moved away from the table.

"Do you have a telephone I could use, Sergei?"

"There's one out in the hallway."

"Thanks."

Hunt gave the other man a nod goodbye before he walked out of the kitchen.

XXX

The front door of the Wolfhound Tavern swung open and Castle slowly and a little unsteadily emerged. He had his arm wrapped around Sergeant Esposito who was more unsteady on his feet.

"What happened to the sun?" Castle inquired as he looked up at the sky and found that it was evening.

"We musta been in there longer than you thought, sir?" Esposito replied with a smirk on his face.

Castle turned his gaze away from the sky and looked at the sergeant.

"Yeah, I guess you're right, sergeant."

The officer and the non commissioned officer stumbled down the steps holding onto each other for support. Reaching the footpath Esposito disengaged himself from the taller man to stand on his own two feet.

Esposito prided himself on being able to hold his drink but now out in the fresh air he could feel his head start to spin a little, a tell tale sign that he had drunk a little too much while he had been in the tavern. He might have been drinking beer that had been watered down but it still packed a bit of a punch to it. He could not help but wonder how much water they had added to the beer, one drop or two?

"Where's a cab when you need one?" Castle muttered as he looked up and down the street.

"In case you haven't noticed, sir, this ain't New York." Esposito remarked.

"I did notice, sergeant."

"Good to know, sir."

Castle turned his gaze to his new found friend narrowing his eyes a little, suspicious that the non-commissioned officer might be mocking him. Esposito looked back innocently.

"You couldn't swing it for a Jeep, Colonel?" Esposito said.

Castle shrugged his shoulders as he once more started to look up and down the street hoping to spot a passing cab.

"All the Jeeps in the motor pool have been assigned to the VIPs here for the Victory Parade." Castle explained.

"Figures." Esposito grumbled.

Castle checked his watch and was surprised to see that it was getting on to nine o'clock. He turned to the sergeant.

"It's getting late."

"Yeah, I know, sir."

"Looks like we're going to have to walk, sergeant."

"Lead the way, Colonel."

Castle nodded and then pointed out the direction they were going to take to which Esposito nodded his head in agreement. He had a vague recollection that was the way they had come. He was not entirely sure because it was dark and was not all that familiar with the area, plus he had drunk a lot of beer.

For the next five minutes the two men walked in silence with only the sound of their boots crunching on the ground filling the silence. In the distance a plane taking off from Tempelhoff airport could be heard. Esposito looked up to the night sky to see if he could catch a glimpse of the plane and only saw the blinking navigation lights in the distance.

Esposito was still coming to terms with the tall man walking beside him. He had never met a senior officer like this man before. When he had returned to their table with the second round of beers the first thing he noticed that the hostility that first greeted their arrival from the surrounding soldiers had vanished completely. After he had sat down at the table he was enlightened about the sudden change in attitude. Colonel Castle had stopped a passing waitress and ordered drinks for everyone in the place. This gesture was well received by all the soldiers in the tavern.

"You married, Sergeant?" Castle asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

"No, sir."

"Got a sweetheart?"

Esposito's face clouded and he remained silent. Castle glanced at Esposito when he did not say anything further and raised a questioning eyebrow at the man. Esposito shrugged his shoulders.

"I used to have one, sir." He said finally. "She broke it off not long after I shipped out."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Okay."

"Anyway, I later learned from an old school friend that she found herself a pilot."

"Yeah, those fly boys seemed to get all the girls." Castle remarked sourly.

"What about you, Colonel?" Esposito asked suddenly. "You married?"

Castle broke into a bright smile and nodded his head.

"And I have a kid as well." He said.

"I bet you're dying to see them, sir?"

"You have no idea, Sergeant."

They lapsed into silence as they continued walking. Esposito looked about him and then looked over his shoulder. He had a sudden feeling that they were being followed. He studied the bombed out buildings carefully but in the darkness he could not see anything moving.

One thing he had been told on his arrival in Berlin was that he should not be walking around the streets of Berlin at night because it was not safe. More than a few soldiers who had been walking around at night on their own had been attacked by criminal gangs.

"Are you sure you know where you're going, Colonel?" He asked.

"Sure I'm sure, Sergeant." Castle replied in good humour. He pointed down the street they were walking along. "We head down here for about half a mile then take a right and then a left and we should be home."

"Okay." Esposito replied in a low voice.

Once more his eyes swept the buildings they were passing looking for any tell tale sign of movement. It irked him that he could not spot any. The feeling that they were being followed was growing. He felt a little vulnerable that he did not have a weapon on him.

"You're a little jittery there, Sergeant." Castle observed.

Esposito shrugged his shoulders. He debated with himself whether to tell the Colonel that he felt they were being followed. The Colonel glanced at him. The debate lasted all of a moment. To hell with it, he thought to himself. He could live with the Colonel chiding him for what he was feeling.

"I think we're being followed, sir."

Castle did not reply immediately, he just nodded his head. He slid his eyes to Esposito.

"I think you might be right, Sergeant." He said in a low voice.

Esposito was startled that the Colonel was feeling the same.

"You see anything, sir?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"Then, I suggest we gently pick up the pace."

"Roger that, sir."

The two men steadily picked up the pace of their walking. Esposito with his senses heightened, kept scanning the street but still could not spot anything. Knowing that the Colonel felt the same was a little comfort but he would have been far more happier if he had a gun in his hand.

The silence of the street was suddenly broken by the sound of a Jeep coming down the street. A moment later it pulled over to the side of the street where Castle and Esposito were walking.

"Hey, Rick." The driver called out.

"Damien?" Castle said with some surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Major Damien Westlake was a divisional G-3 officer involved with Operations and Plans. Castle and Westlake had gone school together. After finishing school they had gone their separate ways only to meet up during the war when Westlake had joined Castle's regiment in the last months of the war. At the end of the war he had joined the Divisional staff.

"I'm looking for you, Colonel." Damien replied. "Hop in."

Castle looked at Esposito and motioned him to get into the back of the Jeep. Esposito nodded his head, he did not need to be told twice. Castle jumped into the front passenger seat.

"Why are you looking for me, Damien?" Castle asked curiously once he sat down.

"We got a call about half an hour ago from a General Cross ordering us to find you at once." Damien explained.

"I don't know any General Cross." Castle said.

"Well, he seems to know you, Rick."

Damien put the Jeep into gear and swung the vehicle around and headed back the way he had come.

"The general said that you were to found and brought back at once. I remembered you were going to visit the Wolfhound, so here I am."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me, than General Cross."

As they drove away Castle looked over his shoulder to Esposito. The sergeant shrugged his shoulders as if to say that he had never heard of a General Cross. All the same he looked relieved that they had transport. From the look on Castle's face he seemed to be relieved too.

XXX

The man lowered his rifle. Frustration was etched deeply on his unshaven face. Just a couple of seconds more and he would have been able to squeeze the trigger and end the Colonel's life. He had been following him sent he had stumbled out of the tavern. The man had the luck of the Devil. Just at the right moment a Jeep had showed up to pick him up. His quarry had flown. The man slowly rose into a sitting position and lifted the rifle. He proceeded to dismantle the weapon shoving the pieces into the old carry bag that lay beside him.

His quarry might have fled this time but he was a patient man. He had no doubt that he would get another chance to kill that man. He closed the carry bag and rose to his feet. Lifting the bag from off the ground he slowly disappeared into the shadows.

XXXXX

_**Your thoughts would be gratefully appreciated.**_

_**Con**_

XXXXX


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

3rd January 1946 New York

The blast of the ship's horn of the Queen Mary was loud as it was long, and could be heard across the harbour. The deep powerful sound reverberated through the cabin rattling the furniture as well as the cups and bottles sitting on the dressing table. Lieutenant Colonel Richard Castle was startled by the sudden blast. He paused in his packing until the last of the sound faded.

He cast a look in the direction of the cabin window and a smile rose to his face on seeing the Manhattan skyline peeking through the mist and smoke of the early morning.

A series of ships' horns sounded in response to the Queen Mary's horn. Castle turned away from the window and finished packing his bag. He grabbed the last of his shirts and shoved it unceremoniously into the bag. It would never have passed inspection, not that he really cared at the moment. He had been taught the proper way to pack his bag way back in basic training but Castle doubted anyone one would care how his bag was packed now.

His bag bulged with his uniforms and other assorted pieces of equipment and more than a few souvenirs that he had either collected or purchased over the past couple of years.

Castle had intended to do his packing last night but that plan had fallen by the wayside. He had spent most of last night in one of the ship's salons that had been converted into an officers' club. As it was the last night of the voyage someone had broken out the alcohol and a party was soon had. It was the last time Castle would see many of these men he had served with for three years, fighting in Sicily and then across Europe from Normandy to Berlin. One last time to share a few laughs over some of the more funnier moments they had experienced and, more importantly, to remember those men who had not returned home.

He had no idea what time he had left the officers' club to stumble back to his cabin for some sleep. It must have been late. He still managed to wake early, shower, get dressed and remember to pack his bag.

Another blast of the ship's horn reverberated through the cabin. Castle closed his eyes and let out a groan of pain. He had woken this morning with a small hangover which the ship's horn was doing nothing to help. He had taken some aspirin for the hangover but it was not working as quickly as he would have liked.

With the duffel bag packed as best he could in his hurried efforts, Castle turned his attention to the large holdall that he had won in a poker game back when he had been stationed in Berlin. In that holdall he shoved letters and other documents he had accumulated over the past three or four years. Also into the holdall went a personal diary that he had kept off and on from the time he had joined the army.

He picked up from the footlocker a photo album. He paused a moment and flipped through the pages, a wistful smile on his face at the memories the photographs brought back. Settling on the last page of the album he smiled at the photograph. It was one of General George Patton reviewing the guard of honour the division had provided when the General had come to Berlin for the Victory Parade. Escorting the famous general was none other than Lieutenant Colonel Richard Castle.

His promotion had been hinted at before he had left for Paris on a three day leave pass but it still came as a pleasant surprise when on his return to Berlin he had gone to his CO's office and was told that he had been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. With the promotion had come a new job. He became the division's deputy G-2 Officer. One of his new duties had been to organise and co-ordinate the Victory Parade in Berlin. Closing the photo album, Castle placed it in the holdall.

The last items he took out of the footlocker and placed in the holdall was his finished manuscript entitled _Sicilian Storm_ and the first hand written draft of a story he was going to call _Storm Over Normandy_. Over the past couple of years he had managed to find time to continue with his writing. He had written _Storm Over Normandy_ during his time in Berlin when the division was on occupation duty.

"Hey Castle, come on, you're missing the sights."

Castle looked in the direction of the door and found Major Damien Westlake standing there, filling in the doorway. The Major had a bright smile on his face.

He and Westlake had shared the cabin on the voyage across the Atlantic but Westlake had hardly slept in his bunk, he certainly had not slept in the cabin last night if the unslept bed was any indication. Castle suspected he knew where his cabin mate had spent the night. His old school friend had taken a shine to one of the army nurses aboard.

"You should be packing, Damien." Castle said.

"Plenty of time for that later." Westlake replied. "Come on, man."

Castle knew that his friend would not give up. He closed the holdall and left it on the bed to be collected later. Moving away from the bed Castle reached over and removed his uniform jacket from the back of the chair and put it on. From a pocket of the jacket he took out the garrison cap and put it on then moved across to the mirror to check his reflection.

Castle smiled with approval at what he saw. He looked presentable enough to meet the Commander-in-Chief he thought to himself. His smile deepened a little more as his eyes fell to the several rows of campaign and award ribbons on the left side of his jacket. The awards he had earned in his four years in the army.

"Come on man." Westlake called out. "I swear, I've never met anyone who takes so much time with his appearance."

"You gotta look good to feel good, Damien." Castle replied, satisfied with what he saw in the mirror.

Castle stepped away from the mirror and headed for the door where his friend waited impatiently. Castle made sure to lock the door of the cabin. He trusted his brothers-in-arms but there were over ten thousand soldiers aboard the ship and he did not want to give anyone the opportunity. There had been scuttlebutt that there had been thefts from some cabins.

Castle stepped out onto the deck and immediately shivered a little. He should have put on his trench coat, he thought to himself. There was a sharp crispness in the cold morning air. It was not as cold as it had been over a year ago in the forest of Ardennes. Up until that time he had thought he knew what cold was but was forced to quickly re-evaluate that belief in those few weeks in late December and early January when he and the men of the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions had been hastily thrown into the line to block the German's desperate, last ditch offensive.

Christmas and New Years had been spent in a freezing cold foxholes repelling German counter attacks. How he did not freeze to death Castle would never know but he had lost a number of good men to the Germans and even more to the bitter cold in what came to be called the Battle of The Bulge.

Castle limped towards the railings, he winced a little at the pain in his hip. It was the same hip that had caught some shrapnel coming down on Normandy on D-Day. A week later he had caught more shrapnel in another battle. The battalion doctor had removed as much shrapnel he could reach but there were some pieces he was not able to, not without major surgery. Castle was not keen on major surgery, not when he was needed back at the front, so he had ordered the Doc to patch him up as best he could, and he returned to his unit.

The shrapnel that had been left in his hip gave him a little bother in cold weather. It was nothing too serious just annoyingly uncomfortable. It had been very uncomfortable for him during the Battle of The Bulge but he had gotten used it as he had more important things to worry about at the time. Now the only time he was reminded of the shrapnel was on cold days. He squeezed himself between two men already at the railing and staring across the expanse of the harbour. It seemed like all the passengers had streamed out to the railings to watch.

Castle focused his gaze across to the familiar concrete jungle. To his eye Castle did not think Manhattan had changed all that much in the four years he had been away. The familiar sights and sounds greeted him. He found it a little hard to believe he was home at last. There had been more than a few times when he thought he would never see the city that he loved ever again.

On the water a small flotilla of boats of various sizes escorted the ocean liner to its waiting berth in Brooklyn. Several harbour tugs guided the massive vessel carefully through the East River. Glancing to his right Castle saw the Brooklyn Bridge looming closer and closer.

"I bet you can't wait to get home, eh Castle?" Westlake said with a knowing grin on his face. He had managed to squeeze himself beside Castle.

"Yeah." Castle smiled.

"Eager to see the little wife, eh?"

Castle chuckled as his friend nudged him with his elbow.

It was true. Castle could hardly wait to see his wife and daughter again. Almost every week he had written a letter to his daughter and wife no matter where he might have been, or doing. His daughter, Alexis, did the same. Castle always looked forward to receiving letters from his daughter. Sometimes they were the only things that kept him going, kept him from going insane.

His wife on the other hand, had not been so diligent when it came to letter writing. When she did write, her letters contained more about her acting career than any concern for his welfare or wanting to know if he was safe. In fact the last couple of letters Castle had received from Meredith had been long winded complaints about not getting roles that she was perfect for and diatribes about certain casting directors who had no idea about what talent they were ignoring.

The ship slowly passed under the Brooklyn Bridge and started slowly to turn to starboard heading for its berth. The cold was starting to get to Castle and he pushed away from the railing, letting another soldier to take his place.

"Hey, where are you going, Rick?" Westlake called out.

"Inside." Castle replied tapping his hip.

Westlake nodded his head in understanding before he turned to back to the railing. Castle limped back indoors seeking the warmth of his cabin.

XXX

Castle slowly came down the gangplank of the Queen Mary two and a half hours after the ship had tied up. Since he had left the ship's railing and gone indoors to get ready to leave the ship he had lost track of his friend Damien. He expected that Damien was with his nurse friend. He was not worried that he did not get to say good bye to him. He expected to meet up with him in the city within a few days.

From several other gangplanks lines of soldiers steadily proceeded down to the wharf. Most of them were being directed to a convoy of waiting army trucks that would transport them to an army camp on Long Island where the final process of demobilisation would be completed.

It had taken Castle about an hour to clear the usual formalities, being an officer the process was made a little quicker, another privilege of rank. Now he found himself standing on American soil once again. He might not have said goodbye to his old friend but he did manage to say his goodbyes to some of the men from his old battalion as well as a few of the senior officers of the division.

He had managed to expedite his separation from the army so that he did not need to go to the army camp where the majority of the division were going. It helped that he was a native New Yorker. Yet his discharge would not officially occur until after the big victory parade that was organised for the division through the streets of the city on the 12th of January.

Hefting his duffel bag over his shoulder Castle gently pushed his way through the countless happy reunions taking place all around him on the wharf. He looked on these reunions with a gentle smile on his face and a feeling of envy.

He had been hoping to spot his wife and daughter amongst the waiting crowds. He had sent a telegraph to his wife informing her of his arrival date home. He did not think it was asking too much to have his family waiting on the pier to greet him. Other families had managed to do it. The smile slowly faded from his face as he continued walking. Something more important must have come up he thought to himself.

Pushing aside his feelings of disappointment Castle continued making his way to the front gates of the pier. He passed through the open gates and set off down the street and started to search for a cab.

XXX

"I see you're a paratrooper, eh?" The cab driver remarked.

"Yeah."

It was not hard to spot. The paratroop insignia on one side of Castle's garrison hat and the paratrooper wings on his uniform jacket was a dead giveaway for anyone who took the time to notice. Castle was staring out the window of the cab familiarising himself with the sights that were passing by and which he had not seen in four years. It was a pleasing change to see cars of different colours instead of the army green that he had been used to.

He turned from the window to look at the driver. The cab driver had been quite chatty from the moment Castle had sat down in the back seat. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of the man's mouth which bounced up and down as he spoke. Castle had not been paying too much attention to what the driver was saying but the question of him being a paratrooper caught his attention.

"Were you one of dem guys who jumped into Normandy?"

"Yeah, I was."

"You sure gave dem Nazis a pasting, eh?"

"Yeah, yeah we did." Castle smiled.

"Good ting too."

Castle shared the cab driver's laughter before he turned to look out the window again.

"My boy was in the 1st Infantry Division." The cab driver announced, filling in the silence that had descended after the laughter had faded away.

"The Big Red One." Castle remarked.

"Dat's the one, yeah."

Castle looked at the rear view mirror and saw that the smile had faded from the man's face.

"He landed on Omaha Beach on D-Day."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..." The driver nodded his head slowly. "He didn't get off the beach."

The smile faded from Castle's face. During the landings on Normandy, Omaha Beach had been the scene of some of the fiercest fighting. The invading soldiers had taken some of the heaviest casualties on any of the five beaches. At the time Castle had heard some reports about the heavy fighting on the beaches but he and his men had their hands full with their own fight against the defending Germans, trying to knock out artillery pieces that were shelling the beaches. It was only much later when the division had returned to England that he had heard what a close run thing the landings on Omaha Beach had been and how bloody the fighting had been. He had even heard whispers that the commanding generals at the time were even considering pulling the troops off the beach.

"I'm sorry for your loss, sir." Castle said quietly.

"Thanks." The driver replied. "The wife and I got a nice letter from his CO."

Castle nodded his head slowly. He had written his fair share of letters to mothers, fathers and wives back home. Far too many to his way of thinking. At first he thought he would have no trouble writing these letters, he was a writer after all. Writing words had been his profession before he had put it on hold to join the army.

Yet he quickly found it was one of the hardest things he had to do as an officer. He hated having to write each and every one he penned. Yet no matter how much he hated the task he still wrote the letters because they were important. No matter how tired he might have been he always made it a point before turning in for the night to sit down and write a letter to a dead soldier's family and loved ones back home. Most of the time he hardly knew the soldier but he wrote telling them what a good soldier he had been and what a loss his death was. He felt it was the least he could do. He was glad he did it because he would receive on occasion a letter of thanks from the bereaved family. Reading those letters humbled him.

"Here we are Colonel, Broome and Crosby." The cab driver announced as he turned around in his seat to look at Castle.

Castle was startled out of his thoughts and looked at the cab driver and then looked out the window to see that the cab had pulled out the front of his apartment building.

"Thanks."

Castle reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a five dollar bill which he handed over to the driver.

"Keep the change."

"Thanks Colonel." The cab driver brightened.

Castle grabbed his bags with one hand and opened the door with his other and slid out of the cab.

"Hey Colonel, can I ask you a question?"

Castle paused and looked at the driver as he hung out the window.

"Sure."

"What is all worth it?" The cab driver said. "I mean, the fighting, all that death and destruction, the sacrifices, was it all worth it?"

There had been more than a few times Castle had asked himself that very same question. He would ask that question when one of his men was killed in a battle. He would ask that question of himself every time he sealed and addressed a finished letter to a loved one back home. Yet after seeing the absolute horror of the concentration camps, of man's inhumanity to his fellow man, he never asked that question again. It was a nightmare that would live him until his last breath. He looked at the cab driver and fixed him with a look.

"Yeah, it was worth it." Castle replied soberly.

The cab driver nodded his head slowly.

"Once again I'm sorry for your loss, sir."

"Thanks." The driver held out his hand."Welcome home, Colonel. And good luck."

Castle shook the man's hand.

"Thanks, you too, sir."

Castle stepped onto the footpath and watched as the cab drove away. He turned and looked up at his apartment building. A smile spread across his face as he looked up at his apartment. He was home at last. Any disappointment he might have been feeling at the no show from his wife and daughter was dispelled now that he was standing in front of his home.

Entering the lobby Castle paused a moment and took in the familiar scene around him. The place had not changed one little bit in the years he had been away. A coat of paint had been applied to the walls and some new pot plants had replaced the ones that had been there previously but apart from that not much else.

"Mr Castle?"

Castle turned around to look in the direction of the front desk. He broke into a smile when he saw the elderly doorman rise from his desk and limp towards him with a welcoming smile.

"Henry." Castle said, grinning as he shook the man's hand.

"Look at you, Mr Castle." Henry beamed. "A Colonel no less, last I heard you were still a lowly captain."

"Yeah, that's the army for you." Castle laughed. "Unfathomable decisions."

"Well it's good to have you home, Mr Castle."

"It's good to be home, Henry."

Henry nodded his head.

"I'll call up and let them know you're here." Henry offered.

Henry started to move away but Castle reached out and grabbed the man by the arm.

"No, don't do that. I want to surprise them."

"It's no trouble at all, Mr Castle."

"Leave it, Henry."

Henry let out a sigh and nodded his head. Castle saw the troubled look on the other man's face but did not think much of it as he strode across to the elevator.

The elevator creaked and squeaked as it reached the fourth floor of the building and the door opened. Castle stepped out and walked down the hallway towards his apartment. The smile on his face grew as he reached the door. He placed his hand on the handle and found the door was locked. Digging into he pocket of his trousers he pulled out his keys. These keys had travelled with him from basic training camp across the ocean and through Europe. They were like a lucky talisman or more to the point, a promise that he would eventually return home. He found the front door key and inserted it into the lock and turned it, then turned the handle.

The door opened and Castle slowly entered his home. He set his bags down by the side table and just stood there surveying the apartment. He could not help but smile as he took in the very familiar surrounds. He could not even begin to describe how much he had missed this place nor how he felt that he was back here once again.

The place seemed to be a little too quiet. Maybe no one was home, he thought. Or maybe they were hiding somewhere ready to leap out and surprise him.

Castle heard the sound of breathless laughter. The smile faded from his face as he turned in the direction of the small hallway where the main bedroom was located. As he strained his ears he heard more breathless laughter. He felt a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. This was a sound he had heard before. He knew who was making that sound. He did not want to believe what he was hearing, hoping that he was just imagining it.

Unbidden, his feet started to move, heading into the hallway and to where the main bedroom was. He walked quietly, one cautious step after another, not wishing to make a sound. He saw the door of the bedroom had been left open. On the floor leading to the bedroom door was a trail of discarded clothes. Women's clothing.

The breathless laughter had stopped only to be replaced by loud groans and grunts and rapid panting. The sound was unmistakeable and the feeling in Castle's stomach grew even worse.

Castle reached the open door and peered into the room. He already knew what he was going to find, the sounds emanating from within the bedroom left little to the imagination. Yet as he cast his eyes to the bed he still felt like he had been punched hard in the stomach.

He had seen far too much in the war to be shocked easily. Yet the sight of his wife Meredith, naked and sitting astride a naked man, riding him for all she was worth shocked Castle like he had never been shocked in his life. He was left reeling. Stunned, and wanting to throw up.

Castle had heard whispers about his wife's infidelity. They had first surfaced not long after Meredith had returned to her acting career when Alexis was about two years old. He ignored the rumours, not wanting to believe them, preferring to trust Meredith. He could not help but wonder now that maybe he had been too much of a coward to believe that there might be some truth to those rumours. Maybe he wanted to take the easy way by turning a blind eye.

What Castle now beheld with his own eyes he could not ignore, not anymore. Not when the evidence of Meredith's infidelity was there for him to see and imprinted in his memory for ever. He had to force down the bile that rose within him before he quietly walked into the bedroom.

"Hello Meredith."

Meredith Castle was startled by the unexpected voice. She turned to look over her shoulder. The colour drained from her heated cheeks and her eyes widened in sudden alarm.

"Richard?"

Recovering from her shock Meredith let out a yelp as she hurriedly scrambled off her companion and reached for the bed sheet to cover herself. The man also covered himself.

"Richard...w...wha...what are you doing here?" Meredith stammered.

Castle did not answer her.

"Who the hell are you, pal?" The man laying next to Meredith demanded.

Castle turned his gaze to the man. He was of average height with a solid build that had been created with the help of a personal gym instructor. His short black hair was slicked back with a liberal amount of Brylcream. His swarthy complexion showed that he had spent some considerable time in a sunny clime recently. There was a trace of the Bronx in the man's voice too. Castle put his age somewhere in the mid forties.

"I asked you a question, pal." The man said, his anger rising.

There was an air of authority and self importance about him. A man who was used to getting his own way or getting what he wanted, Castle noted.

Castle took a couple of steps towards the bed and then stopped. His gaze never left the man.

"Firstly, I'm not your pal." Castle told him. "Secondly, I'm her husband."

The anger the man had been directing at Castle instantly disappeared. A look of worry now settled on his face as he looked at Castle.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't know." The man said hurriedly. "She told me you'd been killed in the war, you know?"

Castle took another step toward the bed. He stared coldly at the man in the bed.

"I'm going to count to three and if you're not out of here by then I'm going to snap your neck and then defenestrate you."

"Wha...?"

The man in the bed looked both confused and then horrified.

"I'm going to throw your worthless body out the window." Castle explained as he held out his arm, pointing to the closed window near the bed. The man looked at the window and then back at Castle.

"Richard, don't be like that." Meredith pleaded.

"One..." Castle said slowly.

"Richard, please...I can explain."

"Two..."

The man flashed a nervous smile, displaying a set of perfectly white teeth. He quickly threw aside the sheet and scurried out of bed. He started to search for his discarded clothes.

"Richard!" Meredith shouted.

"I will deal with you in a moment." Castle said in a cold voice as he cast a glance at Meredith before looking at the man again.

The man had gathered up some of his clothes and was struggling to get into his trousers, as he hopped about on one foot.

"Three." Castle said in a low voice.

Castle moved swiftly. He reached out and grabbed the man by the arm. The man let out a panicked squeak as he was turned around. He had closed his eyes when he got grabbed and did not see the fist that Castle threw. He did feel the impact though. Castle hit him as hard as he could on the nose. Channelling all his anger through his fist.

"Richard!" Meredith screamed.

Castle felt bone and cartilage break under his fist. Blood spurted from the man's nose as he dropped to the floor unconscious.

"Richard! How could you?" Meredith yelled in outrage.

Castle ignored his wife. He bent down and grabbed the now unconscious man and hefted him up to his rubbery legs. With barely a glance at his wife Castle dragged the man out of the bedroom. He dragged the man all the way to the front door. He pulled open the door and unceremoniously threw the man out the door. The man hit the wall opposite the door with a loud crunch and then slid slowly to the floor, leaving a trail of blood smeared down the wall.

Castle closed the door and moved to the phone. He called down the to front desk.

"Henry, it's Rick Castle. Could you send up someone to collect some trash that's littering my front door, please?" Castle said crisply. "Yes, thank you, Henry, I appreciate it."

After finishing the call Castle returned to the bedroom. On entering he found that Meredith had hastily pulled on a robe.

"Richard Castle have you lost your mind?" Meredith yelled at him. "How could you? That was a very important film director."

Castle looked at Meredith incredulously. He could not believe that she had no shame for having been caught by her husband in bed with another man.

"I don't care who he is." Castle growled angrily. "It doesn't give him the right to bang my wife."

Meredith moved towards where Castle was standing with what she thought was a seductive smile on her face.

"But you know he doesn't mean anything to me, kitten."

Castle cringed on hearing that pet name Meredith had given him. He hated that name from the very first time she had called him that. Try as he might he had never been able to stop her from calling him that.

"Don't ever call me that again, Meredith."

Meredith continued to walk towards him. Castle held up his hand.

"Don't come any closer, Meredith." He warned. "I've never hit a woman before but so help me I might just do it today."

Meredith stopped suddenly. The smile on her face vanished and now looked at Castle with some shock.

"Where's Alexis?" Castle demanded.

"Oh, she's staying with her grandmother." Meredith replied in a dismissive tone.

Castle was grateful for small mercies that his daughter was not here to witness this sordid scene.

"About this..." Meredith said waving her hand in the direction of the bed and making another attempt to mollify her very angry husband. "I can explain."

"Save your breath, Meredith because I don't want to hear it." Castle said through gritted teeth.

"But...Richard..."

Castle glared at his wife. He was struggling with the anger of her betrayal that was roiling inside him. He could barely look at her.

"Pack you bags." He announced.

"What?" Meredith said with surprise.

"You heard me, Meredith, pack your bags."

Castle turned his back on her and started to walk to the door.

"But where will I go?" Meredith called out.

Castle stopped in the doorway and turned to look at her.

"I don't really care where you go."

"Richard, you can't just throw me out." Meredith said tearfully.

There had been a time when Castle would have easily succumbed to Meredith's display of tears but no longer. He knew that she was only acting, and if he was being critical, she was not doing a good job of it. He took a breath and slowly exhaled before he spoke.

"I want you gone by the time I get back, Meredith. Because if you're still here when I return, I promise you, I will throw you out on the street."

XXX

On emerging from the apartment building Castle started walking. He had no set destination only that he wanted to get as far away from Meredith as possible. He also wanted to rein in the anger he was feeling towards his cheating wife. For a couple of hours he walked around in some kind of daze but soon he found himself standing in front of his mother's apartment building.

He stood there for some minutes debating with himself whether to go upstairs. Then the overwhelming need to see his mother and daughter became too much and he entered the building.

"Richard! Darling!" Martha Rodgers exclaimed in delighted surprise when she opened the door and found her son standing there.

Before Castle had a chance to respond he found himself enveloped in his mother's arms and pulled into a big hug.

"Thank God, you're home at last!" Martha cried.

Castle returned his mother's embrace and could feel some of the anger he had been feeling start to ebb away. Martha eventually released her son but pulled him into the apartment.

"Why didn't you tell us you were coming home, darling?"

Castle followed his mother into the living room.

"I did." He said.

"You did?"

"I sent a telegraph to Meredith."

"Oh."

Castle came to a halt in the middle of the living room and watched as his mother went to the drinks cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.

"You're return deserves a drink, darling."

"Make mine a double."

Castle looked about the room and found it had undergone some redecoration in the years he had been away. Some of the show posters had been replaced with tasteful paintings on the walls.

"Is Alexis here?" Castle asked.

"She is visiting some friends." Martha informed him. "She should be home shortly. She will be so excited to see you."

Castle smiled at that. He was excited to see Alexis. He wanted to see how she had grown.

Martha finished pouring the drinks and brought them over handing Castle one of the tumblers. He accepted the tumbler with a nod of thanks. Martha saw the look on her son's face and was immediately concerned.

"What's the matter, Richard?"

Castle did not respond instead he brought his tumbler to his lips and took a big sip of the whiskey almost draining the entire contents.

"Richard?" Martha pressed.

"I arrived home and found Meredith in bed with another man, some director." Castle looked down at his near empty glass and shook his head.

"Oh dear."

Castle looked up from his drink and regarded his mother for a couple of moments. He drained his glass and then moved to the drinks cabinet and refilled his tumbler.

"Did you know about her activities, mother?"

"I suspected." Martha confessed, trying not to look shamefaced.

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Castle said angrily.

"I'm sorry, darling. But what would you have done? You were over there fighting in the war, you didn't need to hear such news."

Castle took a gulp of his whiskey and moved away from the cabinet.

"You still should have told me, mother." He said quietly.

"Would you have believed me?" Martha said.

Castle took a sip of his whiskey and considered what his mother had just said. His mother was right. He would not have believed her. Martha Rodgers had never liked Meredith and made no secret of that but had kept those thoughts to herself after Castle had married Meredith.

"Feel free to say 'I told you so'." Castle offered.

"I don't have any joy in being proven right, darling."

Martha took a sip of her drink before she set the glass down on the coffee table. She moved over to Castle and took the tumbler out of his hand and placed it on the coffee table. Without a word she pulled her son into a tight embrace. Castle let out a long sigh and fought back to urge to cry.

"I've thrown her out of the apartment." Castle said in a low voice.

"What are you going to tell Alexis?"

"What I always tell her, the truth."

XXXXX


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

New York

9th January 1946

Kate Beckett stepped out of the cab and immediately felt the severe chill in the air. She shivered against the cold and moved to the driver's window. Opening her purse she reached in and pulled out a five dollar bill. She passed the bill through the open window to the driver. A moment later the driver handed over the change.

She stepped back and watched the cab drive away. Clutching the small bouquet of flowers that she had purchased especially a little more tightly, she wrapped the army great coat tighter around her to ward of the cold. She looked up at the leaden sky. The sun was struggling to break through the clouds without much success. From the looks of things there might be more snow fall before the day was out or at the very least some rain. Either way the day was cold, very cold.

Slowly she turned on her heels to face the entrance to the cemetery. The gates were wide opened as if they had been awaiting her arrival. It had been seven years since she had last been here and on that day it was much the same as it was today. That she had been overseas for the past seven years did nothing to lessen the guilt she felt for having been away for so long.

Yet no matter where in the world she might have been on this day, each year she would pause and remember, and mourn. On this day she would wonder what her life would been like if things had turned out differently. There was not a day that went by that she did not miss her. There was not a day she did not think of her mother. There was not a day that she did not feel her loss.

Taking a deep breath Kate exhaled slowly and forced herself to start walking towards the open gates. She passed through the gates and made her way along the winding road.

The lawns on either side of the road had light dusting of snow like icing sugar on the top of a cake. Two dark tyre ribbons on the road marked the recent passing of a car. Kate followed that ribbon neither looking to her left or to her right at the rows of grave stones nor to the leafless branches of the trees. The cemetery had not changed all that much in the years she had been away.

She walked with purpose. It may have been seven years since she had last been here but she knew where she was going. She passed other people standing before graves paying their respects to a loved one buried there.

After walking for ten minutes she moved off the road and passed a row of grave stones until she came to the second last row. She turned to her right and slowly made her way along the line of graves. The snow crunched under the soles of her boots. The grave stones were uneven in size and shape. Some where large slabs of marble inscribed with passages from the bible. Others were large and elaborate statues set on plinths, while others were of a simpler design. Some had last words chiselled into the stone or an everlasting comment about the interned. All the grave markers though had one thing in common, there were inscribed with the name of the deceased, their date of birth and date of death.

Most of the grave stones she passed were dusted with snow indicating that someone had not been here for some time. A couple that she passed had been cleared of snow and a fresh bouquet had been placed against the stone.

Kate came to a halt in front of another grave stone that had been recently cleared of snow. A small bouquet of roses was nestled against the base of the stone. She did not need to wonder who had cleared the stone of the snow and left the flowers. She knew who it had been. It surprised her a little. The last time she had been here she had come alone because he had been too drunk to even move. The year before that they had come together.

Kate quickly looked around her thinking that the man who had cleaned the stone and left the flowers could be nearby. Searching carefully she found no sign of the man. She felt a little relieved he was nowhere to be seen. She did not know what she would have done if he had been there. She did not want to see that man, not today.

Turning to face the grave Kate took a couple of steps towards it. The grave stone was about four foot high of polished granite. A large inscription in big bold letters was chiselled at the top: Vincit Omnia Veritas, "Truth Conquers All". Below was: Johanna Beckett February 2nd 1888 – January 9th 1936. A small smile rose to Kate's lips as she read the simple inscription. It was the motto her mother lived by.

"Hi mom." Kate said in a low, shaky voice.

She knelt down and placed bouquet of roses she had brought beside the ones that her father had left on his visit. Then she reached out with her gloved hand and traced her mother's name with her fingers.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited for a while but I've been away."

Her vision began to blur as tears welled up in her eyes. They started falling and she made no move to wipe them away. The hole in her heart seemed to grow even deeper now that she was kneeling in front of her mother's grave. She could hardly believe that it had been ten years since Johanna Beckett had been cruelly wrenched from her family. The tears came easily.

"I miss you, mom." she sobbed.

Her tears fell and froze on her cheeks and in time they stopped. For the next hour or so she remained seated by her mother's grave talking to Johanna telling about some of things that had happened to her over the past seven years.

Slowly Kate rose to her feet. The muscles in her leg protested at the constricted position that had been forced to endure for so long. Kate brushed grass leaves and dirt from her coat before she turned to face the grave stone.

"I promise you, mom, one way or another I'm going to find out who did this." Kate vowed solemnly. "I'm going to find out, if it's the last thing I do."

That was what hurt the most. The police had never found the man who killed her mother. In fact they had shelved the case after a few months. Even now Kate remembered the Detective who had come to the apartment to inform them that they had not found her killer all leads had been exhausted and there was nothing more that could be done. She also remembered the other thing the detective had said, it was their opinion that Johanna Beckett had been the victim of random gang violence.

Kate kissed the fingertips of her glove and touched her mother's name. She offered a weak smile before she slowly turned and started to walk away.

XXX

9th January 1946

New York-The Old Haunt

Castle pushed open the front door of The Old Haunt. A small smile rose to his face as he took in the familiar scene displayed before him. It had been over five years since he last been here but to his critical eye nothing much had changed in that time. It had the same wood panelling on the walls, the booths and tables were still the same as they had been. The aroma of stale beer that hung in the air was the same too, and the gentle hubbub of patrons too was familiar.

A few people turned from their drinks to see who was letting in the cold air. Castle recognised a couple of familiar faces, regular to this bar. Eddy the piano man was seated at the piano tinkling away and entertaining the patrons who came in just like he had been for more years than Castle could remember.

Castle closed the door, moving across to the coat rack and removed his trench coat and hung it up. Then he hung his hat above the coat. He then removed his gloves and shoved them into a pocket of his trench coat. As he turned away from the coat rack Castle rubbed his hands, trying to get some warmth back into them. The Old Haunt was a very warm welcome respite from the biting cold outside.

He moved into the main area of the bar. As he approached the piano, Eddy, broke into a smile as he suddenly changed the tune he was playing and started up on the opening bars of the tune _Begin the Beguine_, the tune that Artie Shaw had a hit with back in 1938. As soon as Castle heard the music the smile on his face deepened. It was one of his favourite tunes.

"Nice to see you Eddy. It's been a long time." Castle said as he reached Eddy.

Castle dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out some bills. He selected a five dollar bill folded it and then dropped it into Eddy's large tip jar. "Thank you for remembering."

"Thank you, Mr Castle." Eddy replied as he continued playing. "Welcome home."

Castle walked through the bar until he came to a booth that he was well acquainted with. He looked up to the wall behind the booth. The entire wall was covered in framed photographs of famous, not so famous and up and coming authors. Ernest Hemingway was up there, as was Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett plus few other friends too.

Seeing his friends' photographs reminded him of the poker nights they used to have before the war. These writers would get together from time to time to play poker and discuss their writing or other peoples' writing. It would be nice to have a poker night with his writer buddies, he thought to himself.

He continued to look over the photographs on the wall Castle found the picture he had been looking for. Two over from the photo of Ernest Hemingway. The handsome devil himself, Richard Castle.

In the photograph he was leaning against the bar with his arms folded across his chest with a lopsided grin on his face. It had been taken not long after his first novel, _In A Hail of Bullets _had been published. He had written almost all of the book in this bar, at the very booth above where his photograph now had residence. He remember he wanted to have a copy of the book sitting beside him on the bar but the photographer did not like that idea.

After a few minutes of staring at his younger self and the other writers Castle turned away and made his way up to the bar. He pulled out a stool and sat down.

The barman had been at the other end of the bar wiping down the counter while talking to a customer. He set down towel and made his way over to where Castle was sitting.

"Whiskey, please." Castle ordered.

The barman gave a curt nod of his head turned and reached to the middle shelf behind him where the whiskey bottles were sitting. He selected a bottle and set it on the counter. From underneath the counter he produced a glass.

Castle watched as the barman poured the whiskey into the glass in front of Castle. The barman finished pouring and Castle nodded his thanks. The barman started to step away to return the bottle to the shelf.

"Leave the bottle." Castle instructed.

The barman hesitated a moment, considering the request, then nodded his head and returned to the counter and set the bottle down beside the glass.

"Thanks." Castle said.

The barman nodded his head then moved down the bar to serve a customer who had just come in. Castle stared at the glass for a couple of moments before he reached out and picked it up. He brought the glass up to his mouth and threw it down his throat. He winced a little as he felt the burn of the whiskey making its way down his throat. Setting the glass down he refilled it. The second glass of whiskey disappeared as quickly as the first. He refilled the glass again.

Castle sat there contemplating the whiskey in the glass. He had come to the Old Haunt with the express purpose of getting himself drunk. This morning in the post he had received divorce papers from Meredith's lawyers. He had not seen Meredith since he had ordered her to pack her bags and leave the apartment. Not that he had made any effort to get in contact with her. He did not trust himself if he saw her.

What surprised him the most was that Meredith had made no effort to call or make contact with their daughter, Alexis. He knew that Meredith could be very self absorbed but he could not believe she would care so little about their daughter that she could not be bothered to call Alexis at least. He had quickly dealt with the paperwork that had been sent to him.

He shook his head and reached for the glass and took a sip of the whiskey. He swallowed the alcohol and set the glass down on the counter.

The door to the bar opened as a new customer entered. Castle sat there staring at his drink that he did not bother to look over to see who had walked in.

"Here you are Ricky."

Castle was startled out of his thoughts. He looked around and found his friend Damien Westlake standing there with a smile on his face.

"Damien, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

Westlake unbuttoned his coat before he sat down beside Castle. As he settled himself down he noticed the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

"Is this a private party you're having or can old friends join in, Colonel?"

Castle signalled to the barman for another glass. When it arrived Castle picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured a generous measure into the glass before he pushed the glass towards Westlake. Westlake nodded his thanks as he picked up the glass and took a drink. Castle took a sip from his glass.

"What are you doing here, Damien?" Castle asked.

"Like I said, I was looking for you." Damien explained. "I went by your apartment and no one was home."

Castle nodded his head slowly. After Alexis had gone off the school and his mother had left having stopped by that is when the mail had arrived. Amongst the mail were the divorce papers from Meredith's lawyers. He had been both surprised and not surprised to get the divorce papers so soon. After dealing with the divorce papers he had left the apartment in need of a drink or three.

Castle looked at his friend and narrowed his eyes.

"So how did you find me here?" He asked.

Damien grinned at his friend.

"I remembered you telling me about this place called The Old Haunt, a hangout for writers, you used to say. So, I grabbed a cab and well, here I am." Damien explained.

Castle accepted the explanation with a nod of his head. He remembered that he and Damien used to talk about the best pubs in New York. He would always tell Damien that the Old Haunt was his favourite and explain why.

"Why'd you want to see me?"

"The General wanted to know if you're going to be joining us for the Victory Parade on Saturday." Damien stated. "You haven't been around at the camp, so he just wants to know if you'll show up."

Castle winced as he reached for his glass and took a sip of his whiskey. With all that had happened since his return home he had not given much thought to the upcoming Victory Parade that had been organised by the city. The entire 82nd Airborne Division had been given the honour of leading the parade.

"I don't know, Damien." Castle said slowly.

The last thing Castle wanted to do was to participate in victory march.

"You can't back out now, Rick."

"I'm no longer in uniform, remember?"

"That doesn't matter. Don't tell me you've forgotten all that marching practice we did at Camp Chicago?"

Castle certainly had not forgotten. After the division had been relieved of occupation duty in Berlin on November 19th it had been sent to Camp Chicago near Reims. It was there that the division learned that it would be leading the Victory Parade that the City Of New York was organising in early January. Almost immediately the entire division began practising marching in formation. It practised marching in formation three times a day every day until they were transferred to the embarkation camp in Le Havre where they boarded the RMS Queen Mary for their journey home. Even senior officers, like Castle were not spared, ordered to participate in the marching practice.

"Look, Rick." Damien said lowering his voice as he leaned closer to Castle. "General Gavin told me to tell you, that he would look on it as personal favour to him if you joined us for the Victory Parade."

Castle frowned as he finished the whiskey in his glass. If the Commanding Officer of the 82nd Airborne Division, Major General James Gavin was asking a favour from him, then Castle knew he had no option but agree. He reached for the bottle and refilled his glass and then refilled Westlake's empty glass.

"Okay, tell him I'll be there." Castle sighed.

"Good man." Damien said happily, slapping Castle on the back. "Afterwards we can hit the town, find us some girls..."

Damien let his voice trail off when he saw the pained look on Castle's face.

"Oh, sorry, Rick." He said hurriedly. "I forgot you're already hitched."

"Not any more." Castle announced with a humourless chuckle.

"What?"

Castle drained his glass in one gulp and immediately refilled it and poured some whiskey into Damien's glass.

"Have I got a story to tell you, Damien." Castle said he picked up his glass and took a sip of his whiskey.

For the next few minutes Castle recounted the scene he had been confronted with when he had walked through the front door of his apartment.

"You got to be kidding me, Rick." Damien breathed, stunned at what he had just heard.

"No kidding, old friend." Castle confirmed.

"You mean you..?"

"Found her in bed with another man?" Castle said finishing his friend's question. He nodded his head several times. "Yep, the two of them naked as they day they were born and going at it like there was no tomorrow."

"Oh man. What did you do?"

"I threw the bum out the door." Castle said. An evil looking smile appeared on his lips as he glanced at Damien.

"I threw him out but not before rearranging his face first."

"What about Meredith?" Damien asked anxiously.

"I told her to pack her bags and get the hell out."

Damien stared at Castle for a moment before he shook his head still struggling to comprehend what Castle had told him. He reached for his glass and brought it to his lips and took a big sip from it. Carefully he returned the glass back on the counter.

"And this morning in the mail, she sent me divorce papers." Castle added.

"I'm really sorry to hear about that. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to divorce her that's what I'm going to do."

Damien let out a long sigh in sympathy for his old friend. A couple of moments later a smile appeared on his face.

"That settles it." Damien announced. "After the parade, you and me are going to hit the town and find us some girls and we're gonna party hard, and party long, like the conquering heroes that we are."

Castle returned the smile as he reached for the bottle of whiskey and refilled both their glasses.

"And tonight we're gonna start practising." Damien added with a laugh.

"I'll drink to that." Castle chuckled as he raised his glass.

XXX

Alexis Castle walked into the kitchen. Unslinging her school bag she dumped it on the kitchen table on her way to the fridge. She paused a moment and frowned before she opened the door. There was no message taped to the door. Opening the door he reached in and took out the bottle of milk. She closed the door of the fridge and took the bottle with her as she moved over to a cupboard and took down a tall glass. There was just enough milk to fill the glass.

Leaning against the bench Alexis brought the glass to her mouth and took a drink of the milk. It was the usual ritual when she came home from school. She had been doing it for as long as she could remember.

On her arrival home she found that nobody was home. Her grandmother had stopped by in the morning but did not stay long because she was meeting some friends of hers. Her father was not in the apartment either. Walking through the front door her first stop was her father's study but he was not at his desk. Calling out to him she received no response. She frowned again realising her father had stepped out and had left no message to say where he had gone or when he would return. Perhaps he might have forgotten.

This was not the first time she had come home and found no one home. Her mother was notorious for going out and neglecting to leave a message.

Thinking of her mother, the expression on Alexis' face hardened. Almost a week had passed and she was still angry at her mother for what she had done. What made her angrier was the fact that she had failed to spot the signs her mother was being unfaithful. Looking back on it now it had been there for all to see.

However, what made her the angriest was the sadness she saw in her father's eyes that night, his first night home, when he explained to her what had happened, and that her mother would no longer be living with them.

At first she had been shocked at what her father had told her but that gave way to anger. Her anger had deepened when the full implications had sunk in. Even now Alexis wondered if she would ever forgive her mother for her betrayal. Maybe in time but she was not too sure.

Alexis finished her milk and left the glass sitting on the bench. She walked over to the table and sat down. She looked at her school bag but made no move to reach for it. She had a lot of homework to catch up on. The past few days at school had not been easy for her. She had not told any of her friends what had happened at home about her parents splitting up but she knew it would not be too long before they found out one way or the other. In class she found it hard to concentrate on her work because she worried about her father.

Glancing at the clock on the wall Alexis saw that is was a little after four o'clock. She hoped her father was not too long where ever he had gone. Seeing that she had a bit of time she decided to get started on her homework before dinner had to be started. Making dinner was something else she had learned to do for herself.

Letting out a sigh Alexis reached over and dragged her school bag towards her.

XXX

Castle stumbled out of the lift and careered into the wall. He let out a groan as his shoulder hit the wall. Bouncing off the wall he staggered back into the middle of the hallway as he made his way to the front door of his apartment. He knew he had drunk way too much. He knew it the moment he had staggered out of the Old Haunt and the fresh air had hit him, and he knew it know. He should have stopped after one bottle of whiskey but hadn't.

He and Damien had polished off three bottles of whiskey if his memory served him correctly. He had gone to the Old Haunt with the express purpose to get drunk and to forget about his failed marriage. As much as he had told himself that this was not his fault it still hurt that Meredith had been unfaithful. A small part of him blamed himself. The rest of him was just angry. Angry that he had been away overseas fighting the Germans and his wife was going to bed with other men.

He had hoped by getting drunk he would forget about the pain. He had hoped by getting drunk he could just forget.

He would have stayed at the Old Haunt and continued drinking and then gone out on the town with Damien but a tiny voice in the back of his head reminded him that he had to go home. Why he had to go home he did not quite know but he had listened to that little voice all the same. He had left Damien at the pub, promising to catch up with him later, in the evening.

Castle approached the front door of his apartment but he had some momentum and overshot the door. He stopped and let out a giggle before he slowly staggered back to the door. He stood before the door swaying from side to side. He was about to lift his hand and start knocking on the door when he remembered that no one was home. Remembering his keys he dug into the pocket of his trousers and fished out the set of keys.

He lifted the keys up in front of his face. He squinted at the keys he had in his hand trying to remember which one of them was for the front door. Going through them one by one he found the right key and let out a little cry of triumph.

The task of inserting the key into the lock proved to be a little harder than he thought it was. Every time he tried to put the key into the key hole he kept missing the slot. At first he just chuckled at his failed attempts, thinking it was just another reminder that he had drunk far too much whiskey. Before his frustration grew he managed to slot the key into the key hole.

With a little chuckle of triumph Castle turned the key and unlocked the door. Opening the front door he staggered in. He turned and closed the door. He used a little too much force in closing it and he cringed at the loud noise he made.

"Dad, where have you been?"

Castle was startled by the unexpected voice. He turned around abruptly and almost over balanced. He recovered quickly and looked across the room and saw his daughter standing near the kitchen. A smile quickly rose to his face on seeing her.

"Oh, hey Pumpkin." he said. "You're home early."

"School finished a couple of hours ago."

"Oh, really?" Castle lifted his wrist and tried to focus on his watch. He saw that it was after five o'clock.

"Where have you been?" Alexis demanded.

"I was out."

"I can see that."

Castle tossed his keys at the side table near the front door. The keys hit the table top and slid off to land on the floor. Castle forgot about the keys as he started to make his way to where Alexis was standing. He kept his eyes to the floor and making a great effort not to stagger over to Alexis. He did not want to show her that he might be a little drunk. The grin returned to his face as he lifted his gaze to her.

Reaching Alexis he enveloped her into a bear hug.

"You've been drinking." Alexis remarked.

"Only a little."

"Maybe a lot." Alexis retorted.

Alexis managed to extricate herself from his bear hug and took a step back. She frowned unhappily at her father.

"I met with an old army buddy of mine."

"And you both decided to get drunk?" Alexis suggested.

"Well, we couldn't stop at one drink." Castle informed her.

Castle turned around and started to make his way out of the living room heading for his bedroom.

"Dad, are you hungry?" Alexis called out. "I could make you something."

"No time for that, Pumpkin." Castle called out over his shoulder.

"Why's that?"

Castle stopped and slowly turned around to look at his daughter. A small frown creased his forehead as he had to think. Suddenly he remembered.

"I've got to get changed." Castle told her. "I'm going out again."

"Maybe you should stay home tonight?" Alexis suggested.

Castle turned and resumed making his way to his room.

"Nah, I got to go out."

"Dad..."

Alexis started following her father but Castle quickly disappeared into his room and shut the door in her face. Alexis stopped and blinked in surprise at his action. She considered stepping up to the door and knocking on it. She changed her mind, turned and slowly walked away.

Castle removed his hat and tossed it in the direction of the dressing table. Next he pulled off his trench coat and let it dropped to the floor. He then removed his jacket, with a grin on his face he sent the jacket sailing across the bed room towards a chair. He missed the chair and the jacket landed on the floor. He loosened his tie as he stumbled towards the wardrobe. His path veered away from the wardrobe and crashed into the side of the bed. He fell face down on the bed. Maybe a couple of minutes rest would not hurt, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes.

XXX

Castle slowly cracked open an eye to find most of the room bathed in darkness except for the light coming from the beside lamp. He closed his eye against the brightness of the light. The pitter patter of rain drummed against the window panes and he listened to it for a moment. He wondered where he was. His head felt stuffy and was beginning to spin. His stomach was roiling, ready to rebel at all the alcohol he had consumed during the afternoon. There was a faint pounding within in his skull which he knew would only get worse as time went on.

Through the stuffiness he remembered leaving the pub and walking through the front door of his apartment. Everything in between was a blank. As hard as he tried to remember nothing came to him. How he managed to get home was a mystery. He resolved to solve mystery some other time, when he was feeling a little better than he was now.

Sleep was the best course of action he told himself, and he will himself to go back to sleep. Yet sleep did not come. He felt that something was wrong. Opening both eyes he saw his mother sitting on the edge of the bed looking at him.

"Mother?" Castle said, surprised.

"Hello, darling."

Castle quickly moved to sit up on the bed. Almost immediately he regretted the action as his head started to spin a little more quickly. He clutched at his stomach and hoped that he did not disgrace himself in front of his mother by throwing up. He leaned against the headboard and took a deep breath steadying. His stomach settled down a little.

"Wha...what time is it?" Castle asked.

"Nine o'clock, dear." Martha replied in a soft voice, a bemused smile on her face.

Castle frowned a little as he remembered that he was supposed to be meeting up with Damien Westlake. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He had decided on a little lie down and had slept through. He hoped that Damien understood. Opening his eyes again Castle looked at his mother.

"What are you doing here, Mother?"

"To see if you're alright."

"I went out for a couple of drinks, met a war buddy and had a couple more drinks."

"Oh, please Richard, a couple of drinks?" Martha said derisively.

"Mother please don't shout." Castle said wincing.

"I'm not shouting, dear." Martha said calmly.

"It sure sounds like it."

"What ever your suffering right now was self inflicted." Martha stated. "You smell like a distillery."

"I thought I'd try a new after shave, Mother." Castle retorted. "Eau de Wild Turkey."

Martha ignored the sarcasm in her son's voice. She rose from the bed and reached to the bedside table and picked up the glass of water she had brought into the room with her. She turned and held the glass out to Castle.

Castle took the glass and brought it to his mouth and drained the contents in a couple of swallows. His mouth felt as rough as the floor of a birdcage and tasted even worse. He was grateful for the water, it seemed to revive him a little. He handed the empty glass back to his mother. Martha returned to the bed and sat down by his hip and looked at him.

"I saw the divorce papers sitting on your desk, dear." Martha remarked.

"Yeah, well." Castle shrugged his shoulders.

"I noticed that you've already signed them."

"I thought it best to get it over and done with as quickly as possible."

"Did you at least check the terms before you affixed your signature?"

Castle nodded his head. He had gone through all the documents. He was happy enough to give Meredith what she wanted. His accountant might not have agreed but that was another matter.

"I know you're hurting, darling." Martha said gently, breaking the silence. "But getting drunk is not the answer."

"Seemed like a good idea." Castle replied.

"Well, it wont dull the pain."

Castle gave his mother a look.

"What? You don't think I tried that?"

Castle shrugged, remembering his mother had gone through a divorce.

"Tell me this, Richard. When you lost a man in battle, it hurt, didn't it?"

Castle looked at his mother for a couple of moments before he slowly nodded his head. He had lost a lot of good men during the war, many times it was because of orders he had issued. He had been told plenty of times that it was not his fault, that it was the fortunes of war. Castle knew that it was true but he still felt responsible. He always would.

"When that happened, did you get drunk?" Martha asked.

Castle looked surprised at that question.

"No, of course not."

"Why's that, dear?"

"Because the rest of the men were depending on me."

Martha gave a small nod of her head. A gentle smile appeared on her painted lips as if she had received the answer she had been looking for.

"Well, the war maybe over and you are no longer in uniform, darling, but you have to remember that there are people still depending on you."

Castle looked at his mother and frowned. He was not sure what his mother was getting at with what she had said. His mother held his gaze and smiled a little more. Slowly Castle's eyes widened as comprehension set in.

"Oh, God, Alexis."

Castle hurriedly swung his feet off the bed and started to get to his feet. Martha reached out and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Is Alexis alright?"

"She is fine." Martha assured him. "You came home drunk and she was a little worried about you, so she called me."

"I've got to speak to her."

"Leave her be. She went to bed early."

Castle scrubbed both hands over his face as if that would sober him up. He had completely forgotten about his daughter.

"You have to remember, darling." Martha said. "You might have lost a wife, but Alexis has lost a mother, and she is still trying to get to know her father again, after an absence of four years."

"I haven't done so well, have I?"

"Don't beat yourself up, dear." Martha said soothingly. "You've only been back a week. Just give it a bit of time."

Castle nodded his head slowly. He looked at his mother.

"I promise I'll do better, Mother."

"Oh, I know you will, darling." Martha smiled. "Now get some rest."

XXXXX


End file.
